


All That You Got (Skin To Skin, Oh My God)

by DreamsAreMyWords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, They're oblivious about their feelings, Underage Drinking, but they'll get it together in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 58,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsAreMyWords/pseuds/DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: Anya burst into laughter. "Wait, wait, wait a minute. You and Clarke grew up together, Clarke is oblivious but you're totally aware of your feelings- super GAY feelings-and your dad being a pastor complicates things, but you guys are like magnets and you can't stay away from each other, even though you have no idea what the hell you're doing, and then you don't even talk about it. You spend way too much time thirsting and not enough actually being honest with each other and with yourselves. So, to get this straight- you're not."Lexa deadpanned her. "Clearly."Clexa from childhood to college, friends to lovers. Mostly fluff and humor with some slowburn angst. They kiss way too much and talk way too little.





	1. The One Where Clarke and Lexa Become Best Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FuryGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryGirl/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating will go up as needed (and trust, it will be needed). Angst and fluff and a happy ending for our girls because they deserve it and so do we. Stay strong, kru!

Halloween was stupid, Clarke Griffin decided as, scowling, she settled down further in her seat, folding her arms over her chest and glaring out the window. It was the morning of October 31st, and she was stuck on some boring old airplane, and her family was the _only_ family dressed up. Everyone else was wearing business suits or regular clothes. Clarke at least had a window seat so she could half-hide and stare out at the sky instead. The clouds were huge, billowing and looked like something out of another world, but Clarke was eight years old and feeling ridiculous in the witch costume her mother had forced her to wear because it was apparently _adorable_ (it _wasn’t)._

Clarke bit her tongue so she wouldn’t mutter a scathing remark under her breath. Somehow, no matter how quietly she said it, her mom would always hear her.

Currently, Clarke was seated in the far left out of three seats. Her mother sat directly beside her, while her father sat on the aisle seat. Her two baby brothers, Aden and Reese, were snuggled up on her mom’s lap, with _Clarke’s_ DVD player sitting before them, playing some stupid movie for babies. Clarke glowered darkly at it. Her mom had taken away her Scooby Doo DVDs just so her dumb brothers could watch Bob the Builder instead. It wasn’t fair.

Then again, maybe it was just grown-ups period that were stupid, because her stepdad hadn’t taken her side, either. “You’ve had it for the whole flight,” he had said. “It’s time to give your brothers a turn.”

“You have to share, Clarke,” her mom added, and Clarke had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, if only for the fact that it would only get her a swift smack upside the head. Her mom could always see her roll her eyes, even when she wasn’t looking.

“It’s not fair,” pouted Clarke again, when Reese giggled as Bob did something dumb. “It’s _my_ DVD player.”

“Santa brought it for all of you,” Abby reminded her. “So you have to share it.”

“But they don’t even know how to turn it on!”

 “Clarke,” warned Abby, with that threatening tone in her voice and flash in her eyes that told Clarke to drop it. Fuming, she folded her arms more tightly and gritted her teeth, seething for the rest of the trip.

She didn’t cheer up until their plane finally landed in Polis and her stepfather bought her an ice cream at McDonalds. Clarke licked it as they drove down long, winding roads in a roomy rental car.

 “Mom,” said Clarke when a thought occurred to her. “Why don’t we ever see Aunt Nia at home?”

 Abby turned back to look at Clarke, absently handing Aden the McDonald’s toy he had just dropped out of his car seat. “Because, baby, Arkadia is too far a trip for them. They have a life up here, they both have jobs, and they have to take care of Grandma Becca. There’s never any time for them to fly to us.”

“But we rode a plane to their house.” Done with her ice cream, Clarke handed the empty cone to her mom. She passed it to Kane, who finished it off.

“Yes, but this is only the second time in the past seven years. Because Auntie Nia is having another baby.”

 Clarke shot a shrewd glance at her brothers, both drooling over their toys. Their frizzy blonde curls of hair were askew on their round, big heads, and their blue eyes were large and bright, especially Reese’s pale left eye, but that one always seemed bright and Kane said it was because it was magic, but Clarke knew it was just what blind eyes looked like. “Why is she having another baby when she already has one? People don’t need more than one kid, I think.”

Abby’s lips turned up in a smile she was unable to suppress. “Sometimes it’s fun to have more than one baby. More to love.”

Clarke did roll her eyes this time, but her mom only pressed her lips together, smiling. Feeling brave, Clarke said, “Poor Lexa.”

“Now, Clarke,” began her mother sternly. “Lexa’s probably excited to have a little sibling.” Clarke snorted, and her mom changed the subject. “Are you excited to see her?”

Clarke shrugged, but she lapsed into silence as she thought about it. The last time she had seen Lexa was when she was five years old. She couldn’t remember why she and her parents had flown down, but she had a feeling it hadn’t been just to visit, due to the fact that she could vaguely remember seeing Lexa’s grandma with an oxygen tank thing strapped to her mouth, and she only remembered it because at the time, it had terrified her. Lexa had been fun though, she recalled. Way more fun than the girls in Clarke’s kindergarten class at school that only played hopscotch or jumped rope at recess. Lexa had played in the dirt with Clarke, hunted for worms, and had even beaten her at tag. Clarke frowned as she reminisced. Lexa had teased her because she was faster than her, but Clarke decided it was a fluke, and perhaps she hadn’t been feeling well that day, or Lexa had cheated somehow. It certainly didn’t make sense that Lexa beat her, because Clarke was nearly a foot taller than her. Or she had been, anyway. Clarke wondered if she had grown up a lot, just like she had.

She’d asked her mom once if Lexa would be super tall like Nia, but Abby had explained that Nia was not Lexa’s real mother, just like Kane was not Clarke’s real father, though she hadn’t needed to explain that part. Lexa had never known her mother, but Clarke could remember her dad. Jake Griffin had been a wonderful, smiling father, and she had several precious memories of him before he passed away when she was six years old. Now Clarke was going on nine and she had a new father and two half-siblings.

The car pulled into the driveway of a huge, fancy house. The front door flew open as Clarke’s parents were unbuckling her brothers from their car seats. Aunt Nia was as tall and striking a presence as Clarke remembered. Truthfully, Clarke was not the biggest fan of her; she didn’t let you eat in the living room, she always wanted the television quiet, and she could be a bit cold. Sometimes Clarke wondered how she and her mother were friends at all (because Nia and Abby weren’t actual sisters, they had just grown up together and, though not by blood, were apparently family, for better or for worse—and Kane said it was often for worse).

Nia walked carefully down the sidewalk, holding her arms out and calling out to Abby with that same weird smile that never seemed to reach her blue eyes. Clarke pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh, because Nia was wearing a black sweater decorated with red polka dots, and antennas that danced everywhere with each step. She was a lady bug this Halloween, just like Clarke’s mother was a flower and Aden and Reese were little bees and Kane was apparently a praying mantis, even though all he was wearing was a green t-shirt.

Abby, holding Reese on her hip, embraced Nia. Reese giggled and pawed at Nia’s antennas, and Nia feathered her fingers through Reese’s blonde tufts of hair. “Hello, little one.”

“Say hi to Auntie Nia, Reese,” cooed Abby, moving Reese’s arm so that he waved a dimpled hand at Nia.

“And this is Aden,” said Kane, bringing Aden over to Nia, who kissed him, too.

Clarke politely returned the smile when Aunt Nia spotted her. “Clarke,” acknowledged Nia, moving forward to pull Clarke into an awkward hug. “You’ve grown so big since I last saw you! And what a cute little witch.” When Nia kissed Clarke’s cheek, she graciously waited until she turned to speak to Abby again before she scrubbed it away. She didn’t need something else for Lexa to tease her about, and she was sure that a lipstick mark would be that something.

 “Hello,” came Uncle Titus’s voice as he stepped out of the house, the sunlight reflecting off his bald head. There was a vaguely familiar-looking teenage boy standing behind him, stocky and muscular (it didn’t look like _he_ was wearing a costume, and neither was Titus) and behind him stood a scrawny, sun-tanned girl wearing something ambiguously akin to a Tinkerbell costume. Her hair was not pulled back into the neat bun, though; it was a long mane of wild brown hair that didn’t look as though it had been brushed. It fell forward over thick glasses that framed wide green eyes that blinked at Clarke once, balefully, before her face tentatively moved into a smile.

“Clarke, do you remember Lexa?” asked Aunt Nia, ushering Lexa over to her. “You haven’t seen each other since you were five years old!” Nia shot a pained look at Abby, and Clarke wondered why for a brief moment, before Lexa stuck out her hand for her to shake.

“That’s weird,” said Clarke, because she never saw _kids_ shake hands, but she shook her hand. It was small and warm. The fact that it was coated in a thin layer of dirt brightened Clarke’s mood. That meant Lexa was playing.

 “What have you been doing?” she asked, gesturing to Lexa’s dirty hand.  
 

Lexa understood. “I’ve been digging by the pond. I’m trying to find treasure. You can help if you want.”

Clarke rolled her eyes; treasure, really? But she turned and asked her parents if she could go play with Lexa, and they nodded, so she followed Lexa through the house and out to the backyard. 

As they walked down the hill, heading toward a couple of tall trees and a pond, Clarke said, “So you think there’s treasure here?”

Lexa nodded. “There definitely is.”

Clarke tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice so she wouldn’t offend Lexa. “How do you know?”

“Because of this.” Lexa stopped in her tracks so she could fish something out of one of the tight folds of her green skirt. It was a folded up piece of thin, ragged paper. There was marker on it that was faded and hard to read, but it clearly looked like a treasure map. It didn’t look like real, though. It looked like a fake one that someone made up.

“Who gave you this?”

“My grandma it to me, like a week ago,” said Lexa as she took the map back and scrutinized it as they resumed walking toward the pond. “She said she buried some treasure for me, and made me a map to find it.”

“Why?” asked Clarke, confused as to why Lexa’s grandma would do such a fun thing. Clarke’s own grandmother was rather uninteresting; whenever they went to visit her, she let her watch whatever she wanted on the television and fixed her snacks to eat, but the house was always quiet and boring.

Lexa shrugged. “I think she was trying to cheer me up.”

Clarke began to ask her why she had needed cheered up, but remembered a warning her mom had given her before about being too nosy, so she shut her mouth and waited when they reached the pond and Lexa stood for a minute in silence as she peered down at the map.

“Okay, it says that it’s twenty steps around the pond away from the tree,” said Lexa, tucking the map into her shorts pocket as she walked to the tree. Clarke watched her as she flattened her back to the trunk, and then took large steps, counting as she walked. When she reached twenty, she dropped to her knees and waved at Clarke, who still stood on the little hill overlooking the pond. “Found it!”

Curious, Clarke hurried over to where Lexa had already started using her hands to scoop dirt. Clarke knelt down beside her and began to help, but after nearly twenty minutes of digging a giant hole in the dirt, so far down that the soil had turned to mud, they finally had to stop and acknowledge that there was no buried treasure.

“Hmm.” Lexa frowned at the map for a minute before her face lit up. “Oh, maybe it was twenty feet the other way.”

 “I’ll check.” Clarke stood, walked over to the tree and flattened her back against the trunk. She counted aloud as she went the twenty steps. “It’s right here.”

 Lexa came over and together they dug for another good half hour, until Titus was calling for them to come to dinner.

“There’s nothing here, either,” panted Clarke as she and Lexa got to their feet and started to trudge back up towards the house.

“I know,” said Lexa breathlessly. She was biting her bottom lip while she looked at the treasure map again.

 “Are you sure she isn’t just tricking you?”

Lexa shook her head, impatiently using her free hand to brush away the wild hair that fell into her face, tucking it behind a small ear. “She never tricks me. We’ll just have to try again after dinner.”

“But you were already digging before I even got here, and you didn’t find anything then, either.”

 “I was digging at the other pond. We have two of them.”

The second they stepped through the back door and Clarke’s mom spotted them, Clarke cringed.

“Clarke!” gasped Abby. “You are _filthy!”_

Clarke looked down at herself. She had grass stains on the knees of her witch’s dress, her shoes were covered in mud, and her hands were caked in dirt.

“Go wash up, right now!” snapped Abby. Clarke knew better than to argue with her, so she turned and followed Lexa up the stairs into a bathroom. Clarke used a stool to reach the sink, being too short to properly reach it herself. She was struggling to get the dirt out from beneath her fingernails while Lexa was scrubbing her hands using the bathtub faucet.

“You wanna go look again after dinner?” asked Lexa, leaning a hip against the tub and turning to face Clarke.

Clarke dried her hands off with a hand towel as she kicked the mud from his shoes into a trash bin. “I don’t know; my mom might get mad if I get dirty again.”

“I have a little shovel that I use whenever we go to the beach. I can bring that for you to use instead, and we can wash your shoes off in the pond so your mom can’t see.”

Clarke was still uncertain, because she was sure her mom wouldn’t want her to go play again, but Lexa was looking at her with a glint in her green eyes, and Clarke knew she would probably tease her if she chickened out.

“Okay,” she said.

Lexa smiled, and then they both walked back downstairs.

They listened to their parents speak as they shoveled chips and ranch dip into their mouths. Uncle Titus was cooking hamburgers, and they tasted a little bland to Clarke. Kane said it was because Aunt Nia couldn’t eat anything spicy without melting. The teenage boy was quiet and polite, and Clarke was surprised when she found out that it was Lincoln, Lexa’s cousin. The last time Clarke had seen Lincoln, he had looked like a little kid, with shaggy hair and a grin that was missing teeth. Now he was lanky, with acne on his face and all his hair shaved clean off.

 Finally, dinner was over and Lexa and Clarke were able to escape back outside. The sun was starting to reach the horizon and Lexa said that they needed to hurry before there wasn’t any light left for them to see outside. They resumed digging, Lexa with her hands and Clarke using a little green plastic shovel. Eventually she grew tired of it, and went back to using her hands regardless of the fact that she told her mom she would only use the shovel.

 After digging for nearly an hour and the sun had started to set, the two of them climbed onto a tree that curved horizontally over half of the pond. It was just low enough that if they stretched out, their feet could reach the pond. They kicked their feet in it so the mud was washed off of their shoes, and then they sat back comfortably on the tree to watch the sunset.

 “Why do you live in Arkadia?” asked Lexa suddenly.

Startled by the sudden random question, since it had mostly been Clarke chattering away while they had dug for treasure, Lexa only occasionally nodding and only intently listening despite Clarke’s attempts to get her talking. “The same reason you live in Polis? We just do. My parents work there.”

“What are their jobs?”

Clarke blinked, realizing that despite the fact that she and Lexa had known each other since birth, never mind not being able to see one another often, they knew very little about one another. “My mom is a doctor and Kane’s a police officer.”

“Oh.” Lexa nodded conversationally. “My dad is a pastor. My mom’s an interior designer, and she makes like, rooms and stuff.”

“That’s cool.”

“Do you have any friends in Arkadia?”

“Yeah,” said Clarke in surprise. “I have a best friend named Maya. Who are your friends?”

Lexa appeared bashful. “I don’t really have any.”

“Any at all?” said Clarke, shocked. 

 “Well, on recess I’ll play with my cousins if I see them. Anya and Nyko are a grade above me but I see them at recess, and sometimes I’ll play with Artigas and Tris if I can, but they’re below my grade so I don’t always see them.”

This was strange, to Clarke. At her school, only the weird kids didn’t have friends. Lexa didn’t look weird. She acted a little weird, but she didn’t look weird. She was even kind of pretty, noticed Clarke as she observed her. Lexa’s sunkissed skin was so smooth it almost looked like it was glowing. Her eyelashes were so thick that the sun cast shadows down her cheeks, long and spidery. Lexa’s glasses were thick and made her eyes seem twice as big as they were, but she was even prettier because of it since they were such a pretty color, a clear green, soft but sharp. Clarke almost wished she had her crayons so she could try to color the same.

“Sunsets on water are always really pretty,” Lexa suddenly said in a soft voice. When Clarke only looked at her, Lexa gestured toward the pond and Clarke turned to look. It was beautiful. Clarke wished she had crayons and paper. After a moment the sun’s reflection disappeared, and then the sun followed after it, and Clarke and Lexa were left sitting in a dusky orange light that was quickly darkening.

 “We better go inside now. My parents get worried if I’m out at dark. They think I’ll fall into the pond and drown.”

Clarke nodded in agreement, glancing at the darkening sky. “It’ll be time to trick or treat soon, anyway.”

Lexa got to her feet, balancing on the tree branch. Clarke stood with less confidence, wobbling slightly. She wasn’t the most graceful person. “Here,” said Lexa, taking her hand. Clarke’s heart gave a bizarre little jump as Lexa’s fingers curled around hers. Lexa held her steady, balancing them as they shuffled off the branch. Clarke was relieved when they jumped off and her feet were planted on the ground, but she felt an odd twinge of regret when she let go of Lexa’s hand.

“Thanks for helping me look for the treasure. My grandma probably wrote the map wrong,” she said as they headed for the house.

“You’ll find it one day,” said Clarke, hoping that Lexa would. She sensed it would disappoint her significantly if she didn’t.

“Do you want to watch a movie in my room?”

Before she could answer, the back door slid open and Abby appeared. “Are you girls ready to go get some candy to rot your teeth?”

Clarke exchanged a shifty grin with Lexa.

An hour later, they and all their family trouped down the dimly lit street, clutching buckets laden with candy. They’d first had to endure a bit of a tussle between Lexa and Nia, as Nia tried to force Lexa to put her hair in a bun and Lexa point-blank refused. As a result, Lexa looked half-Lost Girl, half Tinkerbell, according to Kane, anyway (everyone except for Nia chuckled at the joke). Clarke was secretly glad; she liked Lexa’s wild hair. Clarke’s own blonde curls were hidden beneath a large witch hat.

Once they reached the house again, Reese and Aden were dozing in their parents arms and Clarke knew the adults would want to talk, so she began plotting ways she and Lexa could return to dig for treasure in the dark. Before she could finalize any plans, however, Kane turned to them with a smile.

“Who wants some ice cream?”

The next hour was spent in Lexa’s room sitting on her bed watching the Lion King and licking the giant fudge ice cream bar Kane had given them. Lexa’s room was nice. You had to walk far up the stairs, all the way to the top of the house. It was pretty small, but her bed was comfy and there was a television on the dresser near the foot of the bed pushed up against the wall. They were both curled up under a fluffy Mickey Mouse blanket.

 Clarke thought about how it was weird that she had liked it when Lexa held her hand, and she wondered what that meant. Surely this meant that they were best friends, right? Not like Clarke’s other best friends at school, who she shared her apple sauce cups and giggled about Backstreet Boys with, but a real best friend, the one you have for life. She and Lexa had technically been friends all their lives, anyway. Clarke couldn’t really remember times from when she was a baby, but if she tried to think far back, the first memory that came to mind was of she and Lexa, five years old, Lexa leaping in the air trying to catch the bubbles Clarke blew from a Sesame Street bubble blower.

Still, Clarke wasn’t used to having friends she wanted to be so close to. She shuffled closer to her under the covers, smiling to herself as she and Lexa’s legs and sides pressed together, soft and warm.

Lexa surveyed her for a moment, blinking balefully behind her glasses before saying finally, “Do you ever wish you lived here?”

Clarke opened her mouth to say no, and then realized she had changed her mind. Here was where Lexa was, and she didn’t think it would be too bad if she lived here and could play with her every day. “Yeah.”

Lexa was quiet for a moment, licking her ice cream. Then she said, “I wish you could live here too. It’s…” she hesitated, cheeks turning pink. She swallowed and busied herself with her ice cream, but Clarke didn’t miss her next words. “It’s nice having a friend.”

Clarke’s stomach lurched at the sadness in Lexa’s voice. “You should have lots of friends,” she said, a little frustrated. “You’re nice and you’re fun. And you’re pretty,” she blurted, and felt an unpleasant heat flush her face. Lexa’s cheeks went even pinker, but she didn’t say anything for a while.

“You’re my favorite friend,” Lexa finally decided. “You can be my best friend.”

Clarke smiled. “You’re my best friend too.”

Lexa tilted her head, her bottom lip pushing out slightly and her brow furrowing. “But I thought Maya is your best friend?”

“Maya’s my best friend in Arkadia,” said Clarke matter-of-factly. “You’re my best friend of all.”

Her heart jumped as Lexa scooted over on the bed to loop her arm through hers. She offered Clarke the rest of her ice cream and Clarke finished it, throwing the clean stick toward the trash bin that sat in the corner of the room.

 “You should just live with me,” said Lexa as she rested her head on Clarke’s shoulder. “You could be my sister. You could be my sister instead of the new baby that’s coming.”

“You don’t want a sister?”

 “No. She’ll probably just annoy me. Get on my nerves and play with my stuff and mess everything up.”

“But she’d be your friend,” suggested Clarke.

Lexa lifted one shoulder and dropped it in a half-shrug. “Not really. Just my little sister. Everyone knows that little siblings just annoy you.”

Clarke thought of Aden and Reese, how they irritated her, but they were still her brothers and she loved them. “They aren’t so bad,” she said.

Lexa shrugged, and again there was silence.

“Do you want to play a video game?” she asked after a time.

Enthused at once, Clarke grinned and nodded. “What do you have?”

“Not many.” She hopped off the bed and squatted down before her television, pulling some games out of the basket beside the stand the television sat on. “My parents just bought me a Playstation Two for my birthday, so I’ve only had it for a few months and I only have three games.” She lifted the three games she held in her hands, facing them at Clarke. “I have Kingdom Hearts, Spyro, and Crash Bandicoot.”

Since Clarke had no idea what Kingdom Hearts was, she contemplated between Spyro and Crash Bandicoot. Before she could choose, however, there was a soft knock on the door, and her mom walked in. “Hey, honey, come on, we’re going to leave.”

“We’re going home?” said Clarke in disbelief, gaping.

Her mom smiled and shook her head. “No, we’re going to a hotel. There’s not enough space for us all to sleep here. Then we’re going to come back to visit again tomorrow.”

Relieved, Clarke nodded and hopped off the bed. Abby entered the room and pulled Lexa into a hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Alexandria,” she said, brushing a kiss over her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Aunt Abby,” she said.

“Come on, Clarke, before your brothers wake up,” added Abby, walking out the door and heading down the stairs.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a second.”

When her mom was gone, Clarke and Lexa both gave each other bashful smiles. Clarke didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t want to go yet. She wanted to play a video game with Lexa, or just sit beside her again.

“See you tomorrow, I guess,” said Lexa.

“See you.” Clarke turned toward the door and then was turned back around when Lexa’s hand closed over her arm. She was surprised and embarrassed when Lexa suddenly hugged her and kissed her cheek. Clarke’s heart thundered in her chest and she knew her face was burning.

Clarke said her goodbyes to Nia, Titus, and Lincoln. All too soon, Clarke was sitting in the car, listening to the quiet snores coming from her snoozing brothers.

“Did you have fun with Lexa today, Clarke?” asked Abby, and Clarke nodded, immediately delving into an enthused talk about her time with Lexa and Abby smiled as she listened.

Feeling sleepy as they drove down the long, deserted roads, Clarke gazed out of the window, up at the countless stars in the night sky. She drowsily thought of Lexa. She couldn’t wait to play video games with her tomorrow.

Her last thought were of soft green eyes shining behind thick lenses before she drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was converted from my old Quinntana fic (and was converted from my original fiction). If you would like an example of better writing, please read my other fics Lol XD Like Those Icy Fingers for a long one, The World Had Less Color Without You for a shorter one-shot.
> 
> This fic is gifted to Furygirl, also known as Imperatorsapphiosa on Tumblr, because she's awesome and I hope she always remembers it especially since Voldemort just took over the muggle world. I know things are terrifying right now, but to quote Hagrid, "What's coming is coming, and we'll meet it when it does." I have your back and we all are going to stand strong and protect one another.  
> Stay safe and stay strong, everyone. My box is always open if you need to talk. <3


	2. The One Where Lexa Realizes She's In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words ^_^
> 
> Ratings will go up next chapter!

It was the week before Thanksgiving when Lexa realized she was in love with her best friend. She was ten years old, and it was supposed to be the worst day of her life, but Clarke was with her, and any day with her wasn’t capable of being a bad day, no matter what outside circumstances were wreaking havoc on her childhood heart.

Lexa’s parents had sat her down that morning and explained to her, in eerily calm voices, that they were getting a divorce. Lexa didn’t understand. Just that week, her father had bought her mother a pair of sparkling diamond earrings, and her mother had cooked her father breakfast every morning, like she always had for as long as Lexa could remember. They held hands when they were in the car, and even at that very moment, the vividly red roses her father had surprised her mother with two weeks ago were wilting on the windowsill. So what they were telling Lexa, that they had grown apart and no longer loved each other the way a husband and wife were supposed to, was incomprehensible to her. She just sat still on the edge of a hard backed kitchen chair, staring at her parents with her head tilted and her brow furrowed in befuddlement.

It wasn’t until they began to assure her that nothing would change _too_ much that some semblance of reality snapped into her. They were talking about where Lexa would be going this weekend, and who she’d be spending holidays with, and which house her cat would be taking up permanent residence in. Now she understood. They wanted to change the routine of her life. They wanted to mess everything up.           

She had never been a fan of change. In her experience, every time it happened, all hell broke loose. It wasn't always necessarily bad- Clarke wouldn't be here if Lexa's grandmother hadn't died, for example. But Lexa's mother had also withdrawn since then, seemed colder not only to Lexa's father but to Lexa herself as well. A divorce was just a recipe for disaster. Lexa wasn’t stupid. She had friends with divorced parents. Their entire lives changed when their parents split up. A life of routine was swapped out for chaotic weekends spent listening to arguing adults fighting over ownership of their child, with Christmases rushing from one home to another to catch a glimpse of each parent before the day was over, with a quick phone call every night to assure one another you hadn’t forgotten them. Lexa didn’t want that. She wanted stability, familiarity, comfort, safety.

The morning ended with her ensuing in a screaming match with her mother. Her father had more patience with her, or perhaps more sympathy. He tried to calm the both of them down, but all the good that did was to aim her mother’s wrath and guilt at him, and then Lexa was cowering behind the couch listening to the two of them bellow at one another instead. Eventually they quieted down, asked Lexa if she wanted to have a friend come over to spend time with while they called her uncle to pick her up and take her away for a few hours so things could “settle down.” Lexa called Clarke, and once her uncle came to retrieve her, they drove down the road to pick Clarke up from her house. Uncle Gustus took them out for ice cream and then drove them to the park, where Lexa sat unmoving in a swing, clutching the chains with cold hands despite the fact that it was a relatively warm day for it being so late in the year, and stared miserably at the dirt her sneakers were idly stirring below her.         

Clarke sat silent in the swing next to Lexa’s, watching her carefully with blue, blue eyes. They had known one another since they were born, and been best friends since they were nine, after the Griffins moved here when Lexa’s grandma Becca died. They knew each other like the backs of their own hands. Clarke didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. Her mere presence was comforting enough.       

Lexa’s eyes lifted to meet hers, and Clarke understood as though she could read Lexa’s mind. Sometimes Lexa wondered if she really could, because she always seemed to know what she wanted or needed before even Lexa did.

Clarke slipped off her swing, dropping the couple inches to the ground. The tips of Lexa’s shoes touched the soil, but Clarke was shorter than her. Lexa was one of the tallest in her grade. Clarke was one of the shortest, except for Zoe Monroe. Clarke was insecure about her height, so Lexa often made her feel better by telling her that at least she wasn’t a dwarf like Zoe.

Clarke opened her arms and Lexa immediately reached out, sinking into the embrace. As she became enveloped in Clarke’s warmth, as the sweet scent of her shampoo dizzied her head, her heart fluttered in her chest. Clarke had always had that mysterious effect on her; Lexa didn’t know what it meant, but it had been happening more and more often lately.

Clarke started to pull back, but Lexa tightened her arms around her, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in the crook of her neck and shoulder, bending her neck so she could reach. Clarke hugged her even more tightly in response. Lexa’s eyes stung and her throat ached from the lump that was obscuring it. She tried to fight it back, tried to remain calm and collected. Clarke’s hand on her back moved, started to rub gently in slow circles, as though she had sensed the tears that had escaped and were sneaking down Lexa’s cheeks in dawdling, glistening trails.

Lexa’s sobs were choking, haggard gasps of breath by the time she felt a sturdy hand land on her shoulder to gently nudge her back. Gustus stood behind her, eyes as gentle as the curve of his lips. Clarke softly withdrew from Lexa, so Lexa turned to sob into her favorite uncle’s strong arms.

“Come here, little one,” he murmured, shuffling back toward the bench. He asked Clarke to give them a moment, and judging by the squeak of rusty chains, Clarke had sat down in her swing again. Lexa walked on blindly with her face buried in Gustus’ shirt as he led her across the park to sit on the bench beneath the tall oak tree that was Lexa and Clarke’s second favorite tree ever to climb.

“I don’t want things to change!” Lexa choked, her thin chest rising and falling rapidly under the onslaught of new, fresh tears that poured down her cheeks.           

“Shh,” said Gustus, deep voice firm and stern, causing Lexa to take a wild inhale of breath, desperately trying to control her breathing so she could get her weeping under control. “Listen, Lexa. Your parents love you very much. They aren’t trying to hurt you. Sometimes, adults do foolish things, like marry too young, and they don’t realize they are not compatible. It is sad you have to go through something like this at such a young age, but you should be happy for them, because now they are on their way to finding their own happiness.”

Lexa remembered the anguished, furious expressions on her parents’ faces as they screamed at each other this morning. On their way to finding their own happiness? They had been happy a week ago, when the three of them plus Clarke went to the movie theater. Her parents had been holding hands; Lexa could see their entwined fingers, their arms resting on the armrest between their chairs. They were not happy this morning. It had only been since they mentioned divorce that they appeared unhappy.

Lexa stared forward, her gaze lingering on Clarke’s distant figure, her swing moving back and forth a fraction at a time as she leisurely swept her legs in and out below her seat. Lexa thought of all the Sunday mornings spent with Clarke in church; Clarke’s own parents weren’t as religious, but Lexa’s definitely were, and one thing was for certain: she had listened to many a negative sermon about divorce.

“But the Bible says that divorce is a sin, Uncle Gus,” said Lexa, her voice cracking when she spoke the word. _Divorce._ It had never sounded as evil as it did now.

“Yes, the Bible does say that. But the Bible also says that eating pork is a sin, did you know that?”

Lexa nodded numbly. She was reading the Bible, and she tried to get Clarke to read it with her on more than one occasion. Clarke grew bored after the first couple pages, and claimed it was hard to understand.

“Times are different now. The only true sin would be your parents remaining together when it is clear they are no longer fit for one another.”

Lexa thought about her life growing up. She had thought her parents were happy. Granted, they didn’t seem it often…in fact, it was only the past few weeks when her father had started buying flowers and they both started holding hands and being affectionate. Truth be told, she’d even voiced aloud to Clarke the concern whether her parents even liked one another. But still, they’d been married for almost twenty years. If that wasn’t happiness, what was?

“Maybe no one should ever get married,” she said bitterly. Because if what her parents had wasn’t love, then love must not even exist.

“People who are in love should get married, because they are confessing their love before the Almighty Lord. People should just not make that type of commitment unless they are _truly_ in love with one another.”

“But how do you know people truly love each other?” Lexa insisted, helplessly overwrought by memories of her parents together. It was like her brain was sifting through a storage of them, searching desperately for proof that they really did love one another, that every laugh and kiss wasn’t just fake and a lie, that they were in love and they had just forgotten and this divorce was a big mistake—

“You just know. When you fall in love one day, little one, you will know. You will think about him all the time, you will want to spend all of your time with him. He’ll be the first thing on your mind when you wake in the morning, and the last before you fall asleep at night. You would do anything for him, and he makes you a better person. He calms you when you are feeling like a storm, he inspires you when you are feeling cold and empty. He will be someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, and have a family with. Someone to grow old with,” said Gustus, and his voice grew slightly quieter with the last sentence, more somber, and Lexa knew he was thinking of her aunt. She had died two years ago.

Lexa’s gaze was still focused on Clarke, who still sat in the swing, each lazy sweep of her leg moving the swing slightly with a protesting whine from the rusted chains. A thought occurred to Lexa, and Lexa’s eyes widened slightly as the implications of her uncle’s words sank into her.

“Are you supposed to fall in love with your best friend?” she asked almost inaudibly, voice still hoarse from her tears and emotions.           

“Yes, Lexa,” said Gustus, sounding pleased that Lexa caught on so fast. “He will be your best friend, only more. I know you are young and cannot understand this…think of him as a best friend you want to kiss,” he added with a chuckle.

Lexa’s mouth felt dry, so she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and chewed on it, much like Clarke did when she was nervous. Why was she nervous though?

Clarke was her best friend. Since they had first met, she had always done funny things to her. She had a…weird effect on her. She made Lexa giddy with happiness, she always calmed her down when she was angry, she excited her when she was bored and was the only person that could motivate Lexa to get out of bed Saturday mornings just so they could go watch cartoons downstairs whenever she spent the night on Fridays. Lexa was always thinking about her, from the moment she woke up and sometimes even in her dreams at night, Lexa thought about her, wondering what she was doing and reminiscing about fun times they had together and wishing they were hanging out at that very moment. She could never get enough of her; she always wanted to be around her, to be in her presence. Clarke was the most amazing person in the entire world; she loved Disney movies and she hated all potatoes except for French fries and she drew pictures that were pretty good. She had the best laugh, and her smile was blinding and literally took Lexa’s breath away.

Sometimes, they watched movies they weren’t supposed to. PG-13 movies that their parents wouldn’t want them watching when they were thirteen let alone ten, and when they watched people kiss on the screen, Lexa felt her skin grow hot and flushed, and she became hyper aware of Clarke’s body beside hers, and often wondered what it would feel like if _they_ kissed. Her lips were really nice-looking, pink and soft. Sometimes Lexa could almost convince herself that she should just try it, that she should ask her what would happen if they tried it. She didn’t understand, because at school, other girls would talk about kissing boys, but Lexa never thought about that. She thought about what it would be like to kiss Clarke, and to hold her hand, and to give her flowers and cook her breakfast every morning just like her parents had done. She could only make toast and cereal, but she could probably scramble eggs if she wanted, it looked easy enough.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” spoke Gustus with a knowing smile. Lexa jumped guiltily, wrenching her gaze away from Clarke to look fearfully up at her uncle. It was weird of her to want to kiss Clarke, because she was her friend and she was a girl. Right? “You like a boy at school, don’t you?”

Lexa swallowed, her mind frantically racing, trying to weave its way through the many images of Clarke spinning through her head. She randomly thought of Artigas Jones, the boy that once swapped Pokemon cards with her beside the monkey bars. “Yeah. His name is Artie,” she lied, her palms growing sweaty.

“Artie, huh? Have you told him you like him?”

Lexa shook her head, her eyes flickering back onto Clarke.

Her uncle gave a great sigh, a wistful smile on his face. “Young love. Come here, child.” He opened his arms, so Lexa leaned into his embrace, hugging him back for a moment. “Go play, while you are still young enough to,” he said kindly, so she hopped up from the bench and walked down to Clarke. “And let me see a smile on your face, little one!” he called after her.

Lexa didn’t know why she felt so anxious. She definitely wasn’t about to tell Clarke that she liked her. But it was the simple fact that…she _did_ like her. She wanted to kiss her, wanted to keep kissing her for the rest of their lives. She wanted them to kiss even when they were old and gray. She imagined kissing her with a white dress on, and blinked under the realization that maybe she did still believe in marriage after all.

“Hey Clarke." Her stomach sank as she saw how morose Clarke looked when she lifted her head to meet Lexa’s gaze. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just sorry for you, Lex,” she said sadly. She stood, tightening her blonde ponytail as she did so. “I wish this wasn’t happening. I wish your parents would just…be happy. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

Lexa reached up to tuck a strand of her own hair behind her ear. “I’m not that sad. You make me happy,” she said honestly, and Clarke smiled. “I’m glad you could come hang out with me today. Was your mom mad?”

She shrugged. “She wasn’t home. She was called in last night and I think she’s still in surgery.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s mother was often busy working at the hospital. “That’s good, I guess. She can’t be mad at you. Was your Kane?”

“No.” Clarke laughed. “He loves a reason to sleep in.”

“That’s good,” Lexa echoed; her face almost hurt, like it always did around Clarke, because she always put the biggest smile on it.

Lexa wanted to kiss her so much. When Clarke pulled her into another tight hug, she seriously considered just turning her head and smacking their mouths together, and perhaps she would have, if she wasn’t scared Clarke would be freaked out and disgusted by her. _Clarke_ was _always_ talking about the cute boys in school.

Lexa didn’t even understand why she had such a strong urge to kiss her. It wasn’t just because Clarke was unnervingly beautiful. Her soul was even more beautiful than her face. It was just…everything about her. She was perfect.

“I love you, Lex,” murmured Clarke. Lexa’s heart gave a jerky, irregular jump in her chest.

_Oh._

_Duh._

Why had it taken her so long to see it?

Lexa was head over heels for her. She was in _love_ with her best friend.

Lexa was in love with Clarke. But she was only ten years old! And it was a _girl_. Was that even possible? It was, she knew it was, because she'd heard of it before. Was she...did this make her _gay?_  She’d heard plenty of sermons about that too, enough to know that it was terribly wrong. But, standing here with her arms wrapped around the most perfect person in the universe, she couldn’t help but question that. What could be wrong about this?

Lexa turned her head to brush her lips across Clarke’s cheek, ignoring the electric tingle it sent through her entire body. “I love you too, Clarke,” she mumbled, embarrassed by the effect she had on her.

 But the words had never rang with more truth.


	3. The One Where Lexa Is So Gay

 It felt as though Lexa’s entire body flushed, warming her to the bone. Heat gravitated toward her face. This was what happened when there was only one mirror in the bedroom and you had to wait. What else was there to do, other than watch her best friend she also happened to be madly in love with getting ready?

Clarke didn't seem to notice, her gaze only focused intently on her reflection in the mirror as she applied more smoky liner to her eyelids. But Lexa noticed. She allowed her gaze to travel down Clarke’s body, over the curves of her slim waist flaring out into round hips. _Her ass_ , she thought in a type of desperate wonder, was just perfect. Lexa cleared her throat awkwardly, shifting her legs so they closed tightly together. She felt as though too much heat was radiating from her and Clarke would somehow be able to sense it. For what may be the fiftieth time that week alone, Lexa internally chastised herself for being so utterly, so hopelessly _gay._

It was the second week of their sophomore year of high school. They were getting ready for the first home football game after-party. She should be getting ready herself, but it was hard, when Clarke was standing before her. How disgusting was Lexa, to be having these thoughts about her best friend, and a girl, no less? But she couldn't help it even if she tried. She was Clarke Griffin, and she was absolutely perfect.

They had been best friends for as long as Lexa could remember, and it had only taken until the first year of middle school for Lexa to realize she was head over heels in love with her. Now, five years later, Lexa wasn’t fairing much better. She’d thought maybe the feelings would fade. Had hoped, rather desperately, that they would—most particularly during time she spent around her father as he preached on about the sins of the world. But here they were now, almost sixteen years old, and Lexa couldn’t stop. She didn’t know how to make it stop. She woke up and Clarke was her first thought. They spent every waking moment they could together, and when they were apart, they were glued to their phones, texting one another. Clarke was the last person she spoke to and thought of before she fell asleep. Clarke starred in most of her dreams. Clarke, Clarke, _Clarke._

She was so beautiful. That didn't even need explaining; she was the epitome of exquisiteness. And not only was she just beautiful, but she was also stunning…so hot, just looking at her practically melted Lexa. Yeah, those kind of thoughts definitely weren’t going away. They were growing stronger—so strong sometimes Lexa wasn’t even sure she could stand it. She kind of hated herself.

She wondered what her _best friend_ would think if she knew the ways Lexa thought about her sometimes, late at night, alone in her room…

Not a good direction for her thoughts to be traveling right now. They were supposed to be getting ready for the game, but.

But.

Lexa couldn't keep her eyes off her even if she tried. She stared up at the ceiling in determination, but her eyes only wandered down again to appraise the cleavage she could see in her reflection in the mirror. Dear God. Clarke was gorgeous.

It took her a few seconds to notice that Clarke had stopped applying liner and was watching her in the mirror with amusement. If the jolt of panic shooting through Lexa hadn’t been so strong, she may have noticed the pink tinge rising to Clarke’s cheeks.

"Having fun eye-fucking me?" teased Clarke, turning around to face her.

Lexa’s eyes widened and her face flooded with a furious blush. “I—what—I didn’t—I’m not—“

Clarke’s laughter cut across her frantic spluttering. “Lex, chill. I was kidding. I mean. Obviously you weren’t—you know. We’re girls. Both of us. I know you weren’t. You know.”

Lexa nodded, probably too many times, and swallowed hard. "Yeah. Um, I just thought…you look nice today," she feebly settled for. Great cover. 

Clarke, however, wasn't going to let her off so easy. Lexa wondered what point it was when awkward middle school Clarke turned into confident, sultry Clarke. It did bad things to Lexa’s heart. Clarke walked forward, hips swaying, each step of her foot exuding sexiness, blue eyes watching Lexa intently. Curiously. "Thanks. Still doesn't explain why you were staring in this area, though,” she said, pointing a finger at her chest, which drew Lexa’s eyes again, and _oh God,_ she was so gay.

"Um, I—I wasn't. I just..." Lexa’s thoughts scrambled sporadically around in her head, bouncing around her skull in panic. "I just...wondered...what color bra you were wearing." Seriously? What color bra she was wearing? Total idiot.

But then Clarke was still walking forward, and Lexa didn’t know what was going on. "Well you can find out," suggested Clarke, her voice filled with as much seductive bantering as her gaze. But there was something there, something that left a hard pressure behind her words, and created a bright glint in her dark eyes. What was it? Determination? Yes, that was there. But it was something else. Something Lexa didn’t understand. 

This—this had never happened before. Sure, sometimes Clarke joked around. Clarke was naturally bubbly and flirtatious. Sometimes when the boys flirted with her, Clarke would turn around and roll her eyes at Lexa and smile and flirt the same way. But it wasn’t actually flirting, because they were best friends and they were both girls and Lexa may be metaphorically wrapped in a flannel blanket in the back of a closet but Clarke was very, very straight. The straightest of straights. On the straight mountain of straights, straight up in the air, an impossibly high climb Lexa would never be able to make but at least she could squint up at Clarke from her tiny spot far, far away on the ground, and hope she didn’t go blind trying to look up at her. But straight, yes. Clarke was straight.

Clarke was very straight, and she seemed to be flirting with Lexa again, but this time there were none of their friends around to laugh at her playful, mischievous ways, so Lexa didn’t understand why Clarke was behaving like this, when it was only the two of them alone in Clarke’s bedroom.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed warily as Clarke slowly bent over, placing her hands on the bed on both sides of Lexa’s thighs. Lexa was fairly sure her skin was going to melt off, if not from blushing than from proximity to Clarke Griffin. Her face lowered, moving so near Lexa’s that she could see the tiny scar at the bridge of her nose where she had fallen when they rode bicycles together as children so long ago.

"Wanna find out, Lex?"

There were alarms going off in Lexa’s head. Lots of alarms.

She was still so very confused. She didn’t know what was happening, but she was positive she wanted to find out.

Mutely, Lexa nodded. The heat in her was growing, strongest in her face and…and down lower.

Without a word, Clarke pulled down her shirt by the v-shaped neckline, exposing the sheer teal cups of her bra. Lexa’s mouth went dry at the sight of the pale curves of creamy, smooth flesh, gently rising and falling with Clarke’s breathing. A blush seemed to have fallen on her too, since when Lexa glanced up to see her reaction she noted the faint pink tinge of her cheeks. Clarke was expressionless, but the emotion in her eyes was evident. She looked...curious. Wondering what Lexa would do.

There were a lot of things Lexa wanted to do. But unfortunately, Lexa didn’t have a clue to how to do them, and they were all impossible anyway.

 "Pretty," she commented, leaving it as simple as that.

Slowly, Clarke straightened, releasing her neckline so that her shirt could spring back into place, regretfully covering up what Lexa would have been sorely grateful to take a longer time appreciating. "Thanks," she said.

Lexa answered back just as carefully. "You're welcome."

They both jumped when a sudden knock on the door broke the strange tension in the room. Clarke stumbled and fell against the vanity dresser, knocking makeup to the floor. The door opened.

“Hey, are you guys ready yet?” asked Abby, stopping in the doorway and frowning at all the makeup scattered on the floor. “What happened here?”

Lexa didn’t answer, frozen in place and terrified as she was. After a beat in which Abby’s brows furrowed, Clarke said quickly, “You scared me is what. You made me bump into the table, I knocked everything off.” 

Abby laughed. “Well get it cleaned up and then let’s go, you know I have to stop by the hospital to grab my purse I left there before I drop you two off.” She disappeared back downstairs, leaving Clarke and Lexa in the same tense silence.

Lexa cleared her throat and moved off the bed, crouching on the floor to help Clarke pick up the spilled makeup. Clarke bent down too. They both reached for the same tube of lipstick and their fingers brushed and they froze again. Lexa couldn’t resist glancing up, and she found Clarke staring back at her, that same weird look in her eyes. So gay. Lexa was so gay. Only the gayest of the gays could look into the pretty blue eyes of a beautiful girl and feel like she was falling into the sky, or drowning in an ocean, or something equally as cheesy that she could never ever say aloud lest risking ruining her life.

Clarke’s finger brushed against hers again and she moved it just slightly, slowly, dragging the side of her short nail along Lexa’s knuckle. Lexa’s heart lodged itself in her throat and her stomach was doing so many flips she faintly wondered if she could die from this. Clarke’s lashes fluttered and maybe Lexa would have noticed them darting to her lips if she wasn’t having such an internal freak out.

But then Abby called up to them from downstairs again, hurrying them, and they jumped, quickly continuing to put away the makeup and then flying downstairs and into the car.

Lexa spent the entire game with her nails digging into her palms, hidden inside her sweater sleeves, a permanent blush fixed on her cheeks as she tried her hardest not to stare at Clarke. In the second half of the game, Finn Collins scored a touchdown and found Clarke in the stands and winked and Lexa was so full of churning rage that confused her further that she didn’t even notice the way Clarke was beside her, trying just as hard not to stare at Lexa, and just as confused.

 


	4. The One Where Clarke's Heterosexuality Goes Bi-Bi-Bi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your lovely comments, they make me smile, laugh, and just generally feel great. You're awesome. Thank you :D

Mornings sucked.

 

Clarke had never been a fan of them, even when Saturday Morning cartoons were a thing. Her mother left for work at five in the morning, Kane left at six, and her siblings took the bus at seven even though their elder sister had a license and a car. Clarke’s alarms didn’t even go off until seven thirty, and school started at eight, but it took her a good twenty minutes to wake up, five to get ready, and five to drive to the high school.

 

Right now, she was currently in her up but mentally still snoozin’ stage. She huddled over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table, blinking blearily at the television on mute.

 

Then she jumped, jerking her arms and consequently causing cereal and milk to slop out of the bowl and over the hardwood surface of the table. She looked up sourly to see that it was Lexa who had burst through the door.

           

"Clarke,” breathed Lexa, green eyes widening in relief. There was an urgent air about her as she marched forward across the kitchen. There was something in her hands, but honestly, it was too early. It was far too early. Clarke was not a morning person. Lexa knows this.

           

Clarke glared at her as she scooted her bowl of half-gone cereal in its place centered before her again and raised the spoon. Lexa halted in place, brow furrowing, perplexed at Clarke’s behavior, before she took in the spilled mess. She lifted her free hand to glance at her watch, and her lips quirked as she looked back up at Clarke. “Oh. Morning Clarke. Right.” Bottom lip slightly tucked in, as though she were trying hard not to laugh (which, knowing Lexa, she probably was), Lexa hurried to the kitchen bar and returned with a handful of paper towels. As she began to mop up the table, she continued in the same frantic rush, "Look, I really need your help, are you busy this morning? I'm guessing not. Can you please help me?"

 

Clarke twitched her brow up, exasperated. If it were anyone else, she would be annoyed that it was assumed she wasn't doing anything, even though it was an accurate assumption since Clarke never did anything in the mornings except shuffle around the house like a zombie, occasionally threatening to murder her younger brothers if they were being loud idiots. Lexa, however, had learned many years ago that Clarke had to have at least a good hour, after food and coffee, to adequately behave like a sane human being. So this really must be an emergency if Lexa was risking the wrath of Morning Clarke.

 

"Yeah, sure,” sighed Clarke. “What is it?"

 

“Well, uh…”

 

That was when Clarke finally looked up from her cereal and really truly absorbed Lexa’s presence. Her stomach flipped, like it always did around her.

 

Lexa’s hair was pulled back in intricate braids. Her face was smooth, save for her signature war paint she always wore on game days. She had on a form fitting underarmor long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants. She wasn't wearing shoes; she usually didn't when she entered Clarke’s house; Abby and Kane liked to keep the carpet clean. Glancing over at the door, Clarke saw that Lexa’s shoes were perched neatly against the wall.

 

"It's this. Tell me you can fix this," said Lexa, quiet desperation in her voice as lifted….oh. It was red fabric. Judging by the black letters that were flashed at her, Clarke could tell it was her Grounders uniform.

 

"Nyko’s already gone to school for some honors meeting thing, and no one else can do it." Lexa spread out the shirt, revealing a huge hole from the right armpit to nearly the bottom hem.

 

Clarke squinted at it for a moment, and then nodded. Abby had taught her some rudimentary sewing skills, and this wasn’t the first time Clarke had had to patch up some ruined clothes. She’d grown up constantly in trouble thanks to her adventuring with Lexa (which involved far too much dirt for Abby’s liking). "Yeah, I can do it. It won't be as good as Nyko’s though."

 

"I don't care! I'm eternally in your debt." Lexa bent swiftly to brush a chaste kiss to Clarke’s. Clarke gave her a surprised smile, rising to her feet so she could go dump her empty bowl in the sink.

 

"Again," Clarke reminded her, remembering when she did Lexa’s science homework for her. "You still owe me for last month."

 

Lexa smirked. "You sound a hooker."

 

Clarke shot her a lazy smirk over her shoulder as she quickly washed and rinsed out her bowl. "Bet you'd pay a nice price for me."

 

"You'd wish I would," Lexa shot back, her grin broadening.

 

Hmm. Brave. Clarke left the bowl in the sink and turned, taking a towel to dry off her hands. It was never too early in the morning for this kind of banter. "I wouldn't have to wish anything. You'd be banging on my door," she teased, folding her arms beneath her breasts.

 

Lexa arched a brow, mimicking by folding her own arms together, leaning against the door jamb. "Banging, huh?"

 

Her saying that one word gave Clarke so many images that she literally shivered. Lexa noticed, her eyes moving over Clarke slowly, lingering in places. Currently, it was on the shorts Clarke was wearing. They were the ones she commonly wore to bed, decorated with Wonder Woman logos and so short her ass was nearly visible. Her body grew warm all over under Lexa’s gaze.

 

Clarke swallowed and decided to say it. "You're brave this morning.”

 

Lexa’s brow creased in puzzlement as she tilted her head, gaze shifting back up to meet Clarke’s, startled as though she hadn’t even realized what she was doing. "What do you mean?"

 

Clarke didn't answer. Lexa puzzlement first increased upon her silence, then faded. Clarke swore she could see her eyes darkening.

 

It was confusing. This kind of thing grew more confusing every time it happened—and lately, it had been happening much more often.

 

Clarke didn’t really know what she was doing sometimes. Sometimes, she just went with her instinct. Her instinct usually worked out for her.

 

"And yeah," she added, "I said banging."

 

Lexa’s eyebrows arched almost imperceptibly. Clarke sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to talk herself out of walking straight over to her, pressing her back against the door and—

 

And these were _so_ not thoughts you had about your best friend. Even if you were pretty positive your best friend was super, super gay. Even if you were pretty sure you might even like girls too. Maybe.

That was confusing too.

 

Did it really count as liking girls if she’d only ever had feelings for one girl? Were they even feelings, anyway? They weren’t nice feelings. Like when she was kissing Finn and in that first moment when she drifted her hands through his hair that everyone kept bugging him about cutting but Clarke liked long, because in that first moment when she lost her hands in them, long and silky and dark, thoughts would pop in her head, thoughts that, again, she definitely shouldn’t be having. Thoughts of other hair belonging to another person. Soft brown hair, soft, sweet-smelling skin, green eyes—

 

Yeah, but there were times when those unwarranted thoughts were so nice, though. Like at night. Late. When the house was silent and the room was dark and Clarke’s body felt like it was on fire and Lexa—Lexa was only asleep in her room one house down, but another version of her existed then in Clarke’s room, invisible and fictional, and so, so nice. Not as nice as the real Lexa, but Clarke wasn’t about to get her hopes up.

 

Not when Lexa had never shown even a tiny bit of interest in anything romantic with her. Not when at the end of Freshman year, Clarke kept pushing and pushing back offers from all the boys to the school dance, until the day Lexa asked out Costia Hode, which coincidentally also became the day Clarke finally agreed to go with Finn and they made out in the boy’s bathroom and Finn asked her to be his girlfriend and she said yes.

 

She and Lexa hadn’t spoken for a week and when they did (or rather when they were forced to, for their families’ biweekly dinner at Lexa’s house; despite Nia’s nasty divorce from Titus and even nastier falling out with Abby, Abby and Kane were true to their promise to Lexa’s grandmother Becca and stuck around to help Titus out and keep an eye on Lexa), they both just acted as though school had been busy. The muscles in Lexa’s jaw clenched and her eyes were hard but her voice was as soft and sweet as ever as she politely asked all the right questions when Clarke told her all about her date with Finn. Anger sliced through Clarke’s chest, hot and sharp, when Lexa began to tell her about Costia and how smart she was in their AP English class and how her heart pounded when she kissed her after their first dance and it took a good five minutes for Clarke to realize that Lexa looked so happy and enthusiastic and Clarke should be happy for her. And she was, really, she was. But the anger in her chest didn’t go away, it just twisted and turned until it felt more sad than anything, and hurt a hell of a lot more.

 

Now here they were, sophomore year and Clarke didn’t know what the hell she was doing when she found herself constantly flirting with her. She didn’t know why she was doing it, didn’t know what she hoped for. It was Lexa. _Her_ Lexa. Her best friend for as long as she could remember. Everyone knows you don’t date your best friend, it’s the oldest rule in the book. Dating your best friend can just ruin everything (just look what happened with Abby and Jake. They were best friends, they were soul mates, and he died. Sure, Abby found Kane and they had Reese and Aden and were very happy, but Kane was not Clarke’s father, and Abby still kept her old wedding ring in a box in the back of her closet, and cried every year, and smiled sadly at Clarke’s school pictures because she looked so much like her dad).

 

So yeah, she wasn’t sure what she hoped to gain by flirting with Lexa so much. She chalked it up to enjoyment—because she really did love the banter—and lust. Maybe she couldn’t fall in love with her best friend, but only anyone with eyes would agree that Lexa was attractive.

 

And God, was Clarke attracted to her.

 

She forced herself to stay standing before the sink. Flirting with Lexa hadn’t felt so dangerous until Lexa started flirting back. She was certain it was just enjoyment of the banter for her, but still…it made it much more difficult to tell herself it was all a game and that Lexa reciprocating the attraction was outside the realm of possibility.

 

"So," said Lexa, taking her ripped shirt from the table and holding it up. "D’you think you can fix this for me? I was supposed to be on the bus five minutes ago."

 

"Shit." A glance at the stove clock told them it was a quarter to eight in the morning. Clarke would most likely be late to school. She darted forward, snatched the shirt out of Lexa’s hand, and hesitated a brief second as her gaze caught on her mouth. Fuck. Then she turned and hurried up the stairs for the dusty old sewing kit.

 

Lexa paced back and forth in the sitting room as Clarke drew thread through her uniform. It was going easier than she expected, but she really wasn't the best. She fervently wished that Nyko had been here to do this. He could have this done in a matter of minutes. And then Clarke wouldn't have to deal with a very stressed out Lexa ranting the whole time.

 

"They’re going to leave without me, I know they are." She was wringing her hands as she spoke and repeatedly looking at the time on her watch. Apparently, she was actually supposed to have been on the bus nearly fifteen minutes earlier, so she was already late when she arrived at Lexa’s house. Coach Indra was pissed off and threatening to leave without her. "I thought that the message said we were leaving at seven forty-five!"

 

"I'm sorry this is taking so long," said Clarke desperately, pricking her finger with the needle as she tried to move as quickly as possible. "Do you wanna just take it and wear it—"

 

"No, no!" Lexa cut across her. "I would rather miss the game than show up with it like it was. Indra would kill me if she saw that rip. She's already going to kill me when we turn in uniforms at the end of the season and she sees the patchwork."

 

It was getting more difficult to sew now. Clarke was sweating from the stress and the pressure, and her palms were sweating horribly. "I'm sorry, I wish I was better at this—" she began in anguish, but Lexa cut over her.

 

"This isn't your fault." Lexa crossed the room to her, put a hand on her shoulder and peered intently into Clarke’s eyes. "I'm so grateful you're doing this for me in the first place. You’re late for school right now because you’re sewing for me, and I know how you feel about mornings.” She exhaled a long, exhausted breath when her phone buzzed and she read the message. "They just left," she sighed, easing down beside her onto the couch.

 

Clarke’s heart plummeted. She set down the shirt and the needle and thread, and turned to face Lexa. "Sorry," she mumbled, reaching up to stroke a few stray curls of her hair, lifting them over the top of her head to tuck them back into her braid.

 

"It's alright. It’s only JV."

 

Lexa’s eyes told another story. Green and wavering. It was the first time she’d ever missed a game or been in trouble period with Indra, and Titus would be furious.

 

"Hey," said Clarke, struck by an idea. "Why don't we skip school?”

 

Lexa stared at her. “What?”

 

“We could just hang out here,” said Clarke, looking happily around the house, pleased at the idea of spending the day with Lexa. Finn would be wondering where the hell she was, but this was more important. Since Lexa was supposed to be on a bus to her away game today, her teachers wouldn’t be expecting her in class, and Clarke was already late. “We can binge-watch Netflix all day. Mom won’t be home from the hospital until late, Kane doesn’t get off his shift until six, and Reese and Aden have basketball practice after school and I don’t need to pick them up until five thirty.”

           

A tiny smile returned to Lexa’s lips, curving them slightly. "I don't know. Don't you have a test today?"

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. "What's your point?" Then she tilted her head, a smile tugging at her own lips. "I think a day with my best friend kind of trumps any obligations, don't you?"

  
Lexa’s grin stole Clarke’s breath. Her heart lurched as Lexa leaned forward, but she only wrapped her arms around Clarke in a gentle hug. "Thank you," she whispered in her ear. "You always know how to cheer me up."

 

With her body flush against Lexa’s and the heat of her skin contributing to the heat currently gathering low in Clarke’s belly, Clarke swallowed, growing uncomfortable as she wrapped her arms around Lexa, returning the hug. She was uncomfortable because she didn't know how she was going to make it through this day, alone in an empty house with Lexa Woods, when feelings—thoughts—like these were swirling around her head. Sooner or later, something would have to break.

 

Clarke just hoped it wouldn't be her.


	5. The One Where Clarke And Lexa Are Absolutely Ridiculous Just to Get A Rise Out of Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments <3 They inspire me to update and make me so happy.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

Lexa was presently lying upside down on the comfy chintz couch in Clarke’s living room, her legs propped up on the wall behind it. Music was playing softly from the speakers connected to my phone on the end table, but she wasn’t listening to it. Despite her carefully composed bored expression, she was intently listening to the conversation Clarke was having into her own phone as she paced back and forth, wringing her free hand in agitation.

 

“ _No_ , Finn, I told you, I don’t want to—no, I said I _don’t_! Why is it so hard for you to understand? No, tell me, why?”

 

It was hard to keep a straight face, and not just because Lexa was the biggest closet lesbian in the world. Clarke had been dating Finn Collins for the past two years, since Finn had transferred to Polis in their Freshman year. He and Clarke started talking after the first and only football game their grade ever won, and started officially dating after the first school dance. How clichéd and stupid was that?

 

And was it horrible of Lexa to secretly get so satisfied and giddy every time they fought? Which was pretty damn often, to be honest. They were constantly breaking up and getting back together again. Sometimes Clarke would date others in between, like Atom and Sterling and even Miller for that one week, although Lexa was pretty positive he'd just used her as a beard (which Clarke later confirmed, considering he and Bryan had completely disappeared together during the school dance and emerged with messy hair from the bathroom some time later; Lexa's father had caught wind and refused to let her in their presence for fear they would "corrupt" her, and she and Clarke exchanged eye rolls through his whole lecture).

  

“Why are you being such an idiot? I don’t care. No, I don’t care. I’m just sick of listening to you. Yeah, fuck you too.” Lexa craned her neck to watch the upside-down form of Clarke pull her phone back from her ear and aggressively tap the _End_ button on her phone. “Damn it, why did flip phones go out of style? Hitting the end call isn’t—“

 

“Here, throw this,” suggested Lexa, twisting around so she could grab a pillow and throw it to Clarke. Clarke caught it and immediately flung it at the wall as hard as she could. It hit with a muffled smack and fell to the floor with a soft _phlump_.

 

Clarke blinked at it. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

 

Lexa laughed, more at Clarke’s disappointed expression than the fact that she just hurled a pillow at the wall. Clarke’s face split into a grin, and Lexa ducked her head just in time as Clarke jumped onto the couch, digging her knees into Lexa’s side and the cushions.

 

 _“Ow-w-w!”_ groaned Lexa, the word coming out disjointed from laughter. Clarke plopped herself over her, lying half on top of her. Lexa’s head was hanging painfully off the couch. “You’re such a lump.”

 

“Oh, bite me,” said Clarke, digging her elbow into Lexa’s hip.

 

“Don’t tempt me,” chuckled Lexa, ignoring the slight thrill she felt when she lifted her head to arch a brow at Clarke and found herself inches away from vivid blue eyes.

 

“Remember when we were kids and used to wrestle and beat each other up? We should make that a thing again. Let’s bring that back.”

 

Lexa rolled her eyes, scooting over so she could position her head against the arm of the couch and Clarke could nestle herself onto her chest while they wrapped their arms around each other. “So aggressive. Someone needs laid.”

 

Clarke slanted a cocky grin toward her. “You volunteering?”

 

“You wish,” said Lexa, but her stomach went tight at the thought, her skin prickling with heat.

 

She had been in love with Clarke for as long as she could remember. Maybe she had realized it when she was ten, but she was going on seventeen now and the feelings had done nothing short of strengthen. Clarke was, in Lexa’s opinion, perfect.

 

The only problem was that they were both girls, and Clarke was her best friend. That was why Lexa was so terrified of messing everything up.

 

They fell silent, their breathing synchronized as they lay there for a time, Lexa’s fingertips tracing lazy patterns into Clarke’s shoulder.

 

“Finn is so stupid,” said Clarke softly. “He wants me to go to Murphy’s bonfire with him tomorrow night, and I’ve already told him over and over again that I can’t go.”

 

“Just tell him your mom’s flying in tomorrow morning and to get off your back.”

 

“I already have. Twice”

 

Lexa sighed; as annoying as Finn was, neither she nor Clarke were genuinely agitated. It was hard to be, when she was so comfortable and warm, with this amazing, beautiful girl lying atop her enfolded up in her arms…it was hard to do anything but smile and fight the urge to drift off to sleep. “Finn is an idiot. I can’t believe you’re still dating him.”

 

“He’s a good guy, and he means well. He wants us to win homecoming royalty and showing up to parties is good for that.” Lexa barely stifled the muffled noise of regret in the back of her throat when Clarke pushed herself up to a sitting position. She pushed her golden hair out of her face, huffing a breath. “Maybe I _should_ go to the bonfire. It’s the first game of the season, and you know this’ll be the biggest after party.”

 

“That’s just because Murphy’s throwing it,” said Lexa, rolling her eyes.

 

“Maybe I’ll go down on him,” pondered Clarke. “That would be good compensation.” Lexa stared at her. When she didn’t respond, Clarke twisted her neck to look back at her, arching a brow wryly. “What? I won’t swallow.”

 

“Clarke, that is _disgusting_ ,” groaned Lexa, which had clearly been the reaction Clarke had been hoping for, since she burst out laughing.

 

“What?” said Clarke, the innocent tone she was aiming for ruined by the wickedness of her grin. She loved to shock Lexa. “Don’t act all high and mighty. If I recall correctly, there was a certain someone who fingered her girlfriend in an empty classroom after school one time.”

 

Lexa’s face grew hot, all the way to the tips of her ears. _“Clarke.”_

 

Clarke laughed again at her disapproving tone. “Pretty sure you were also the person who drunkenly confessed to me that you wanted to do more than that to her, too. Something about wanting to _taste_...”

 

“Come on,” whined Lexa, burying her face in Clarke’s shoulder at she laughed again. She didn't notice Clarke blushing. Clarke rubbed her back as the laughter tapered off into chuckles, but she didn’t say anything else. Probably because she was remembering that specific time too. The first and only time Lexa had ever been drunk. About an hour and a half after she and Costia broke up.

 

About two hours after Titus found out Lexa had been dating her, and launched into the lengthiest sermon yet before forbidding her from ever seeing her again. Lexa and Costia had broken up, but it wasn’t so much Lexa’s choice as it was Costia getting totally freaked out by how crazy her dad was and apologetically telling Lexa she just didn’t want to deal with that. Lexa couldn’t blame her. They agreed to be friends and Lexa wasted no time in high-tailing it over to Clarke’s, helping her break into Kane’s liquor cabinet and then drinking until the it was only alcohol rather than sobs burning her throat.

 

“I was just kidding, anyway,” said Clarke after a while, clearly attempting to lighten the atmosphere again. “Like he deserves that. Maybe I’ll just let him touch a boob. Only one, though.”

 

She was joking, but Lexa still chose her next words with delicate precision, struggling to suppress her smirk. “Maybe you should grope _his_ boobs,” she said seriously, and she really did smirk when Clarke rolled her eyes, snorting. _“I_ remember a _certain someone_ saying he had weird, custardy nipples. You could lick one, just to see if it tastes like custard.”

 

“Lick his nipples? Of course that's the lesbian's suggestion,” mused Clarke.

 

Lexa closed her eyes as she blushed again. Any time Clarke said that word, it made her blush. Which was probably stupid, but.

  
But.

 

Lexa was such a lesbian. Clarke was so wonderful, so funny and smart and gorgeous and a total pain in Lexa’s ass, and she was so horribly, so terribly heterosexual. With a stupid heterosexual boyfriend.

 

And Lexa was a closeted lesbian with a pastor for a father and she had absolutely no chance with Clarke, but she couldn’t stop from thinking of her. In platonic ways. In romantic ways. In sexual ways.

 

Was it totally fucked up of her to use her best friend as spank-bank material? Probably.

 

Sometimes she wondered if Clarke really knew. How could she not, really? Lexa would do anything for her, and her eyes practically bled hearts whenever she looked at her. She knew it was wrong and totally meaningless. Clarke would never in a million years see her the same way. Lexa knew that, she understood it. But that didn’t stop her from wondering what it would feel like to press her lips into hers, to feel that soft, pink mouth against hers. She wanted her in all the ways she shouldn’t.

 

And she fucking _reveled_ in it as much as she agonized.

 

“That was so lame. But still. Better try that first at least, before he has you begging me for a threesome. You know _you_ can’t even handle me, let alone poor Collins trying,” teased Lexa.

 

“Please,” said Clarke, rolling her eyes. “I think the real question is whether or not _you_ could handle _me_.”

 

Lexa snorted. “What’s to handle?” When Clarke dug her elbow into her ribs, she hastily added through her laughs, “Okay, okay…I take it back. You might be able to take five minutes. But Finn could barely last one.”

 

“I’ll give you that one. He can barely last one with me, and we’re not even having sex,” she admitted, chuckling.

 

“Jesus. When are you dumping him, again?”

 

Her lips curved. “Lexa…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘he’s actually a sweet guy,’ or whatever.” It was so hard not to roll her eyes at her, and Clarke knew it, because she nudged Lexa again.

 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re jealous.” Clarke smirked, slowly lowering herself down onto her elbows, her torso hovering over Lexa’s again.

 

Lexa’s heartbeat quickened, her breathing growing irregular. “And why would I be jealous?” she asked, struggling to maintain a flat level of sarcasm, but it merely came out as curious.

 

Clarke’s smirk spread as she continued lowering herself, her face growing so near Lexa’s that she could feel Clarke’s minty puffs of breath, courtesy of spearmint, on her face. The ache in Lexa’s belly and between her legs grew, white-hot and yearning. She wondered if Clarke noticed when her eyes flickered down to her lips, lingered. _How could she not know how badly she wanted to taste them?_

 

“Because Finn gets to do all the fun stuff with me, and you don’t,” said Clarke matter-of-factly, and her tone was so bold that Lexa’s mouth fell open a fraction. Still, even then, despite her shock, the ache starting low in her gut continued to tear away at her, and it was a silent struggle not to arch her hips up into her as Clarke lowered herself between them.

 

“And why would that bother me? You’re starting to sound a little gay, Clarke,” said Lexa, and damn her breathlessness taking the bite out of the words.

 

Clarke’s smile faltered for a second, but she ignored the latter part of the statement. “Maybe you just want in on the action,” she suggested, one corner of her lips tugging up in a smirk.

 

Despite the cold tremor of fear in Lexa’s soul, she forced herself to scoff, and Clarke was forced off of her when she turned to put her face against the back of the couch, turning her back to Clarke. It was much safer this way.

 

For a moment, she feared Clarke would keep going, because _damn_ their competitive friendship that always had them challenging each other, but for once, she backed down. She sighed, snuggled in close to Lexa so her nose was nuzzling her neck and her arm could drape over Lexa’s hip.

 

“Sometimes I wish one of us was a boy,” Clarke admitted softly, slipping her hand beneath the hem of Lexa’s shirt so she could absently stroke her stomach, which was, y’know, no big deal considering they did that all the time, but right now, Lexa was pulsing between her legs, and her abdomen muscles went tight beneath her touch.

 

“Why?” asked Lexa, the word coming out far huskier than she expected.

 

She felt Clarke’s body stiffen against hers, so she had obviously noticed. Lexa went still herself, wondering if Clarke finally realized the effect she had on Lexa, wondering if Clarke was repulsed and about to get up and storm away. But she only lay there, continuing to trace patterns into the skin of Lexa’s belly. Her hand shifted a little lower, to where her fingertips were grazing just beneath the waistband of Lexa’s shorts, and a thrill of heat flushed through her body because, _holy….wow._

 

“Because then one of _us_ would be the hot football jock, and we could just date each other,” she said quietly, her tone light and casual, but it put a tremor through Lexa.

 

So Clarke would date her if she was a boy, or if Lexa was a boy.

 

How pathetic was it that that seemed like victory?

 

After a beat, Lexa said with a deliberately grumpy inflection, “You still wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

 

Clarke gave a surprised laughed. “Why’s that?”

 

Lexa shrugged, a half-smirk finding its way back onto her face. Her breathing was shallow, her stomach tight and taut as Clarke’s fingers traced the outline of her muscles, making a steady incline. “In any lifetime, you can’t handle me. Besides, if your dating history has proven anything, it’s that any hot jock gets you hot. I’d have you begging for me.”

 

Clarke laughed again, more softly this time. “Imagination over experience, babe. You wouldn’t even know what hit you.”

 

 _Fuck_ , was there anything hotter than Clarke’s confidence?

 

Lexa’s smile froze in place when she felt Clarke’s fingertips directly under her bra. She was still stroking skin, but Lexa could feel her against the bottom underwire, like she was _deliberately_ touching her bra. _What the hell are you doing, Clarke?_

 

“Mmm, you’re just jealous that you can’t have me begging for it and Finn can,” Clarke egged on.

 

Lexa scoffed for real now, not even the slightest bit phased at Clarke’s blatant lie. “The only thing Finn has you begging for is the flu, so you can throw up and go home.”

 

“Either way, you’re jealous,” persisted Clarke. She was fucking relentless. Her nails were scratching at Lexa’s skin now. The yearning in Lexa increased, burning hot and potent through her blood, surging through her with the need to turn over and fucking _kiss_ her.

 

This wasn’t the first time things between them had gotten a little…tense. She didn’t understand why Clarke flirted back with her, besides the fact that she was a naturally flirtatious person (like Christ, she could seduce the fucking waiter into paying for their own food), but it had been happening more blatantly lately. Lexa had no idea why, and there was no warning or set date it had started happening; it just had. Not that she was complaining, but…what did it _mean?_

 

“Just admit it,” said Clarke in that smug tone of hers that Lexa loved and hated.

 

“Admit what?” It was so hard not to press back against her. So hard not to curve her ass against her crotch. _God_ , she needed friction on her body, needed her hand to slip down lower, needed to taste her lips for the first fucking time—

 

She heard the slight intake of breath that hissed through Clarke’s teeth when Lexa’s body bucked without warning, only slightly, but enough that her ass rolled into her crotch. Her hand, which had still been lingering beneath Lexa’s bra, dropped down, clapping a grip on her hip, as though she wanted her to roll it.

 

_Oh my God._

“Admit that you wish you were Finn,” said Clarke, her voice uneven and her breathing coming out harsher.

 

 _Fuck this_. Fine, if she wanted to play, Lexa would play, twice as hard.

 

 _Hard_. God. She resisted the urge to whimper.

 

She abruptly rolled over, obviously taking Clarke by surprise, judging by the way her eyes widened in alarm and she automatically scooted back. Lexa’s head rested on the same pillow hers did, so their noses were very nearly touching. Never lifting her gaze off hers, she reached up, brushed a strand of golden hair back from her face before she trailed her hand down. Now both of their hands were under one another’s shirts, hovering awkwardly on the smalls of their backs, obviously eager to be somewhere else but too uncertain to go there.

 

“Why don’t you just admit that _you_ wish I was Finn?” said Lexa, and clearly her lack of a smirk told Clarke she was _so serious_ , because she did that signature Clarke-Griffin-arched-eyebrow thing, and there was no trace of amusement left on her face as she held Lexa’s unsteady gaze.

 

Then Clarke blinked, and seemed to contain herself again, since she resumed her smug expression and said, “You have no proof.”

 

“Oh, I have plenty of proof.” Lexa scooted closer, noting it was a great sign that Clarke didn’t move back. Their noses were actually brushing now.

 

Clarke cocked a brow again. “Prove it.”

 

Lexa echoed the movement. “You want me to prove that I have proof?”

 

Clarke nodded slowly. Lexa’s eyes were trained on the movement when Clarke’s tongue poked out, partially curving over her bottom lip, wetting it.

 

_Oh my fucking God, what do I do now?_

 

Lexa knew what she did now. She fucking kisses her, right?

 

But what if she was wrong?

 

Clarke’s gaze flickered down to Lexa's lips. Surely that meant she wanted it? That that was what she was talking about? It wasn’t just empty polite flirting, she was really flirting? It wasn’t all in Lexa’s head, just because she wanted her?

 

Clarke’s nails dug into the small of Lexa’s back, nearly making her wince. Heat surged through Lexa’s body, pooling between her legs. _This can’t be all in my head, right?_

 

She swore Clarke’s head moved a fraction of an inch toward her.

 

_What do I do, what do I do?_

 

Lexa was panicking. What if she had read the signals wrong or something? What if Clarke didn’t want to kiss her at all? What if Lexa kissed her, and Clarke pushed back all freaked out and disgusted and didn’t want to be around her anymore?

 

“Prove it,” repeated Clarke. Lexa’s heart shook when she realized Clarke definitely wasn’t looking into her eyes; she was staring at Lexa’s lips.

 

The realization sent Lexa's heart thundering so hard it was practically choking her. Clarke wanted this. She _so_ wanted Lexa to kiss her, and of course Lexa didn’t want to disappoint.

 

Lexa tilted her head forward, her heart pounding, aware that she was about to have her first kiss with the person she’d been in love with probably before she drew her first breath—

  

“Hey Clarke, you got a second?”

 

Clarke and Lexa both shot apart as though they’d been struck by lightning when they heard Kane’s voice drift into the room. Judging by the padding footsteps, his was walking down the hallway. A half second later, his head popped into the doorway.

 

“Hey Lexa,” he greeted.

 

“Hi,” Lexa managed to choke out. She sat straight-backed and rigid on the couch. Clarke was on her feet already a couple feet away, an equally mortified expression on her face.

 

Kane’s brows pulled together as his gaze shifted back and forth between them, nonplussed. “What are you guys doing? What’s with the hands-caught-in-the-cookie-jar expressions?”

 

Neither Clarke nor Lexa answered; they were both paralyzed, blushing furiously and staring at Kane with wide eyes.

 

After a moment of silence, Kane lifted his eyebrows. “Oh-kay…” He stepped forward so it was his whole body they were seeing, rather than just his head. “Clarke, I need your help with this bouquet I’m making your mom for her birthday. I can’t find the silver ribbons and I’ve looked everywhere.”

 

Finally, Clarke found her voice, though it sounded a little hoarse and uneven. “Did you look in her closet?”

 

“Yep, I didn’t see them.”

 

Clarke cleared her throat, recovering herself. “You have to look in the sewing basket, not the fabric drawer. Here, I’ll show you…” she muttered distractedly as she shot Lexa a furtive glance over her shoulder before heading toward the doorway.

 

“Hey, I’m going to, uh, head home.” It was nearly dinnertime, after all, and Lexa was expecting a phone call from her mother. Plus, she wanted nothing more than to escape being left alone in this room when Abby arrived home from work. Kane was oblivious. Abby was not. She could probably take one look at Lexa and know exactly what she’d been imagining doing to her daughter. Oh, God.

 

Lexa stood up, trying to discreetly wipe her sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans. Clarke’s expression was unfathomable as she looked at Lexa, and it made Lexa nervous.

 

“Okay,” she said simply. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school. Text me,” she added before starting down the hallway.

 

“Bye Lexa,” said Kane cheerily, waving before he followed after Clarke.

 

Lexa was trembling as she let herself out of Clarke’s mansion-like-home, fumbled for her house keys in her jacket pocket, and started toward her own home.

 

That was not the first time things had been so sexually tense between them. The only difference was, that was the first time they’d almost actually done something about it.

 

Lexa knew a long time ago she was probably going to hell, but if this was the way she’d get there…God, she looked forward to the journey.


	6. The One Where They Have Omelettes and Bad Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! You guys are awesome.

_"Freak."_

_Lexa flinched, stumbling over air as she turned the corner, her shoulder bumping hard into the lockers before she steadied herself and flew down the hallway. The sound of her panting, of her heart pounding, of her Toms slapping the waxed floor, echoed through the empty school._

_"Sick."_

_Lexa cringed, ducking down and swerving, as though it would help her deflect the sound of her mother's coldly apathetic voice. There was a light at the distant end of the hallway, the door to freedom._

_  
"Run harder!” bellowed Coach Indra from somewhere behind her, and Lexa was startled again, tripping over her own feet. Her left shoulder slammed hard into a locker again, the lock combination bruising her forearm and sending pain shooting through the entire limb. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out, giving an agonized huff of breath and clapping a hand to her wounded arm as she hurried on, an inexplicable limp to her gait now._

_There was an eerie silence, but Lexa was almost there. The light spilling from the crack was growing; the door was slowly opening—_

_As Lexa released her arm to stick her hand out to push the door open the rest of the way, a figure sprang to being beside her. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open into a perfect comical 'o' as she took in the sight of her father, dressed in his Sunday best, staring at Lexa with wild, furious eyes, a vein throbbing in his temple._

_"You disgust me. May God have mercy on your soul."_

_The words felt like a bullet inflicted straight into Lexa’s heart, and she saw her father raise a hand as though to strike her, but then she was falling forward, through the open doorway and into the warm sunlight._

_Deafening cheers met her. She blinked in the brightness and straightened, her limp and the pain in her shoulder and heart suddenly forgotten. Her face broke out into a smile when she saw her best friend facing her, laughing with her arms open wide, gesturing to all that was behind her. There was what looked like a dozen white-clothed tables, decorated with bowl beyond bowl laden with French fries with many familiar faces surrounding them. Coach Indra was throwing bits of fries at a cowering Lincoln, Nyko was dressed in a tailcoat, waltzing with Jasper Jordan, Harper was pointing at her cell phone and laughing hysterically with Monroe and Roma while Sterling played Twister with Trina._

_"Happy Birthday, Lex!" greeted Clarke, jolting Lexa away from her suspended state of disbelief. Her cheeks warmed as Clarke took her hand and led her down the stairs. Lexa looked around, marveling._

_  
"You did this?" she asked, shifting her wondering smile onto Clarke._

_Clarke was wearing light blue pajamas, the same ones that Finn Collins and John Murphy, who were currently lounging in the chairs, were wearing too, as they alternated winking at Lexa between blowing kisses from puckered lips._

_"Of course! You wanted a surprise party didn't you?" said Clarke, beaming._

_"Well, you know I don't really care for them, actually, I would have much rather had it be just me and you doing something…" said Lexa nervously, running a hand through her hair after she saw Clarke do the same. "Maybe we could go watch a movie, or…"_

_Clarke was no longer smiling. Her eyes were fixed intently on Lexa’s mouth, and Lexa shivered as her stomach flipped, pulled like someone was dragging a fist through it._

_  
" I know you want to kiss me, Lexa," she whispered, and Lexa’s skin prickled in a rush of heat as though her body caught fire when Clarke leaned toward her, eyes fluttering closed, lips pursing, her voice echoing, "Lexa…”_

 

 

"Lexa!"

 

Lexa’s insides plummeted. Oh God, was that really her making those moaning sounds?

 

Lexa opened her eyes to pressing darkness, the weight on her shoulder pushing into her again. Lexa had shaken her awake. She let go and felt the mattress tilt as Clarke leaned off to the side. A moment later there was a click, and the lamp turned on.

 

Lexa frowned, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light. Clarke propped herself up on one arm to mimic Lexa’s frown, her voice a sleepy rasp as she said, "What's up? You having a bad dream?"

 

Lexa’s cheeks flushed, and she prayed Clarke was too tired to notice. Usually Clarke slept like a log through the night, so she didn't understand how Lexa moaning in her sleep would have woken her up. Unless it had been loud… Lexa resisted the urge to screw her face up in embarrassment. God.

 

Well, it hadn't exactly been a bad dream. Not by the end of it, anyway. But the beginning had been something akin to a nightmare….Lexa recalled the look on her father's face as he disowned her, and she shuddered, skin prickling as it grew cold. "Yeah," she grunted, her voice gravely with exhaustion. She and Clarke had gone to bed quite late, after all.

 

Clarke’s brow creased in concern. Lexa tried not to suck in a breath too obviously as Clarke scooted closer to her, dropping an arm around her waist. This was normal, she reminded herself. They’d done this since they were five years old. Friends did this, they cuddled.

 

Did friends constantly have wet dreams about each other? another voice said slyly in Lexa’s ear.

 

Lexa mentally cringed. Well, no, but she was sure there was some explanation for her recent unfortunate tendency of her friend playing highly non-friendly roles in her dreams.

 

“What about?" asked Clarke. Fear clutched Lexa’s insides before she remembered Clarke didn’t know Lexa had just dreamt about kissing her.

 

"Um…my dad…" mumbled Lexa, turning her face into Clarke’s shoulder when she tutted in concern and wrapped both arms around her.

 

I'm sorry, Lex," she murmured, absently stroking a hand down her arm. Lexa wondered if Clarke realized she left goose bumps in her wake.

 

"It's okay." She obviously did, because she pulled the blanket up to cover them, clearly taking it for Lexa being cold. Clarke took her hand and intertwined our fingers, and Lexa hated herself for the slight smile that it gave her.

 

"Love you, Lex," sighed Clarke. She was falling back asleep.

 

Lexa chewed on the inside of her cheek, her brow furrowed. The lamplight was still on, and she could see the elegant curve of Clarke’s neck meeting her shoulder. What a problem, when you couldn't even say "I love you" back to your best friend simply because you feared there were other implications swirling around the back of your mind when you said it.

 

One thing was for certain, she thought as she snuggled in closer to Clarke, closing her eyes to settle in for sleep again. Something was seriously wrong with her.

 

Lexa woke the next afternoon with golden hair in her face. She was ashamed at how disappointed she was when she discovered that they had stopped holding hands at some point in the night, though the fact was almost made up for by how Clarke had an arm slung over her chest. Still half-asleep, Lexa sighed and rolled over, bringing her legs up to curl into her, nuzzling her nose into Clarke’s shoulder.

Unfortunately, that woke Clarke. She turned onto her side, facing Lexa, and blinked sleepy blue eyes at her. Then she gave Lexa a small, lazy smile, and butterflies exploded in Lexa’s belly.

 

The repulsion that arose within her at her sudden urge to kiss Clarke wasn't as strong as it had once been. Instead, she only felt a small twinge of guilt, as she smiled back at her and wondered what would happen if she just leaned forward and pressed their smiles together.

 

"You had another nightmare last night," Clarke noted softly.

 

Lexa gave her a half-hearted apologetic grimace. She couldn't remember very much of the dream now, save for her father's face and Clarke leaning in toward her…

 

"Maybe it's from eating too late. They say that makes you dream," said Clarke thoughtfully. It only took her looking up at the ceiling for Lexa to know she was trying to think of everything they had eaten yesterday.

 

"Don't even try," said Lexa in amusement. Clarke grinned sheepishly at me. "I don't even know what I had for dinner last night, let alone all the crap we ate throughout the day."

 

"Wow, you're a wimp." Clarke was full-out grinning tauntingly now. Lexa groaned as Clarke got to her knees and started jumping on the bed. She supposed it was Lexa’s punishment; usually she was the early morning riser, and she tended to be as perky and annoying as possible to make a grumpy Clarke laugh whenever they spent the night at one another's houses, which was at least twice a week, usually.

 

Lexa wasn't a stupid person. She knew what her having butterflies in her stomach every time she was around Clarke meant. She knew what the fact that Clarke’s smile could make her heart pound meant. She knew what her moaning Clarke’s name at night with her hand between her legs meant. She just didn't understand how it had come to this.

 

Lexa couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her feelings for Clarke had shifted. She’d tried plenty of times, but there was no certain moment that she could think of, no "aha!" instant of clarity in which she magically realized in happenstance that she had a thing for her best friend. It was like a gradual thing. For years they had casually draped their arms around one another when they sat on the couch watching a movie, and then Lexa realized that for the past summer, she looked forward to their movie nights more for the intimacy than she did the movie itself. Then came the startling realization when she was ten. Why couldn’t Clarke feel the same way?

 

Lexa wished it were as easy as that. For the past few months, she’d struggled with keeping a tight lock on her confusing feelings. She didn't understand why every time Clarke looked sad Lexa wanted to kiss her sadness away. She didn't understand why every time she brushed Clarke’s hair, she was overcome by the urge to swoop down and fix her lips to her neck. She didn't understand why she would open her locker to get her books before class and would be suddenly overwhelmed with sweeping images in her mind of pressing Clarke against these lockers and kissing her, touching her. She didn't understand why she was always looking at her, and why that one time during track practice when she caught Clarke staring at her from the ground where she was doing her pushups, she couldn't manage even a sheepish smile to sate her curiosity, and only felt a spark of excitement at the way Clarke’s brows contracted in puzzlement. None of it made any sense. It was Clarke Griffin, Lexa’s best _friend_. Lexa’s father was a pastor, she knew all about why what she was feeling was wrong. She didn't understand it, but she wanted her in the ways she was supposed to want boys. It just didn't make any sense.

 

On most nights, Lexa prayed for God to show her where she had went wrong, what her sin was in all this. There was no reply, but that was okay. God worked in mysterious ways. Homoerotic thoughts were probably her punishment for that time she stolen Lincoln’s favorite soccer ball when they were kids. Lexa would just have to suffer the threat of Hell until her karma ran out. That made sense, right? And everything was  _fine,_ right?

 

Her jokes were so not funny, even to herself.

 

"Go make me an omelet," said Clarke, collapsing back down onto the bed. She grinned wider when Lexa snorted.

 

"You have hands. You go make me one."

 

"Come on," pleaded Clarke, yawning and arching her back off the bed as she stretched out, a strip of pale skin beneath her shirt flashing free. Lexa fought to keep her eyes from lowering to travel the length of her curvy body, garbed only in silky shorts and a tank top. She was a terrible person for having these thoughts, but she couldn't help it. "I'll give you a dollar."

 

"Is that all my omelets are worth?" said Lexa, amused. "Or is a dollar the going rate for a maid these days? I'll have to ask your parents.”

 

"Well, it would be more if you had one of those maid costumes." Clarke cracked an eye open, smirking wickedly. Lexa arched a brow in response. Yet another startlingly gay comment by Clarke Griffin…

 

"You wish," Lexa teased, but her face grew hot because now she was imagining all sorts of things, so she rolled over and leapt out of bed, shooting Clarke a silly face over her shoulder as she hurried toward the kitchen.

 

Twenty minutes later, they both sat at the dining room table with omelets steaming on the plates before them. They were laughing over another of Clarke’s jokes when Lincoln strolled inside, brows rising in surprise when he saw them.

 

"Are you guys seriously just now eating breakfast?" He pointed at the time blinking on the microwave, and Lexa and Clarke both crumpled into giggles once more. "You lazy asses. You better start getting ready soon, Lex, Titus said we're leaving for the Banquet at four."

 

"Ugh no, I didn't know there was a banquet today!" groaned Lexa, leaning her head back against the chair. Her father's church banquets were the most boring events ever.

 

Lincoln, who was currently nosing around in the pan that Lexa used for omelets, jerked a thumb toward the fridge behind him. Lexa scowled when she read the scrawl on the calendar.

 

"I didn't see that."

 

"It's been up there for a month," said Lincoln as he scraped a bit of egg out of the pan with a finger and popped it into his mouth.

 

Lexa glowered at him until she caught his eye. Lincoln rolled his, smiling in exasperation. "If you don't want to go, just make up an excuse. You can't just say that you didn't notice.”

 

Lexa had an idea. "We could go to Finn’s bonfire," she suggested. Clarke looked at her over the table, frowning. "Oh come on. It'd be a great way to say fuck you to Finn."

 

"Watch your damn language," joked Lincoln, and Lexa stuck her tongue out at him.

 

Clarke’s cheeks puffed out as she exhaled sharply. "Yeah, I guess, but…"

 

"But what?" Lexa sent her a taunting grin, mouth full of omelet. "Don't tell me Clarke Griffin is tired of socializing?"

 

Clarke arched a brow. "You don't think seeing them every single day is enough?"

 

Lexa snorted. "More than enough. When you count John Murphy, it's practically a fucking crime."

 

Clarke shook her head, smiling slightly at the way Lincoln chuckled. Lexa using foul language always made him laugh, for some reason. Probably because they grew up having parents that thought proper little ladies should never curse. "Well, we can if you really want to. I don't care."

 

"Wait a minute, you had another fight with Finn?" asked Lincoln; clearly what Lexa had said had only just now sank into him.

 

Lexa gestured toward her, and Clarke fidgeted under Lincoln’s shrewd gaze. Lately, Lincoln and Lexa’s favorite hobby was teaming up to tell her she should dump Finn and date someone better. Which, you know, maybe Clarke would do, if her mother wasn’t constantly asking how they were, and if Kane didn’t beam every time Finn came over. His family was admired and respected in town. They were the power couple of the school. Life would be easier if they remained together. Clarke got it, she understood.

 

And she was pretty sure she loved Finn. He was funny, he could be sweet and thoughtful (every single year for Valentine’s Day he made her these cool origami necklaces), he was good-looking. She didn’t understand why sometimes she looked at him and felt a flare of irritation. She chalked it up to it being a thing that happens in long-term relationships. They’d been together most of her high school, after all. That was practically forever.

 

"What did he do this time?"

 

"He's throwing a fit for me to go to the bonfire with him tonight. I told him I can't because my mom’s flying in today."

 

"Yeah, but isn’t she going to be at the banquet tonight too? So it's either the banquet or the bonfire."

 

Clarke dropped her half-finished omelet down on the plate, making a noise of frustration. "Ugh! If I go to the banquet, I'm going to be bored. If I go to the bonfire, Finn gets his way."

 

"Not necessarily! Like I said, it'll be a slap in his face. Because you won't be going there with him, you'll be hanging out with me. And we all know you'd rather have my company anyway,” ended Lexa with her upper lip curling in the slightest sneer. Clarke smiled faintly, amused at her inexplicable hatred for Finn Collins. She had never liked him.

 

"Alright," Clarke finally conceded, and Lexa grinned while Lincoln dived back into the pan of egg remains. "But I can't get too drunk."

 

"Yeah, because I’m always DD and I can’t be babysitting tonight,” said Lincoln absently as he began looking around for a spoon to scrape the pan with. “Got a hot date.”

 

But Clarke risked a glance at Lincoln over the table, and she gave her a lazy smile in return before taking a huge bite of omelet. Clarke shifted her gaze onto Lexa and narrowed her eyes.

  
"I can't believe you're up for a party," she said accusingly to Lexa.

Lexa shrugged. "Honestly? It's the last party of our Junior year. And I'm kind of in the mood to get drunk now."

 

Clarke stared at her. "You've been drunk exactly one time in your whole life."

 

Lexa's lips were curved, though the smile didn't quite meet her eyes. "Well, we're about to make it a second time."


	7. The One Where There's a Cucumber

Why did God bless some people more than others?

 

It was a question Lexa often speculated. It swirled around her mind as her gaze lingered on the reflection blinking resentfully back at her in a cracked mirror, and continued to swirl endlessly, because the words tasted too bitter in her mouth to voice aloud. Why did He make Clarke look like _that?_ The voluptuous golden hair, the vivid sapphire eyes, the adorable dimple in her chin—Clarke was absolutely _gorgeous._

 

Seriously, it was almost ridiculous; the girl was on an entirely higher plane of being. A clever mind and a sharp tongue, striking beauty, insane artistic skills, a refreshingly filthy sense of humor… (though Lexa would never admit that, of course. Clarke was her best friend, but her head didn't need  _that_ much inflating). And the question was, why? What was the point? Why did they all even exist in the first place?

 

It was a question that had haunted Lexa for as long as she could remember, and some nights, it still kept her up wondering if she was going to be asking it for the rest of her life.

 

" _Lex,_ are you even paying attention to me?"

 

Lexa jolted, tearing her gaze away from the vanity mirror to instead settle upon Clarke. She was glaring at Lexa from where she was lounging on her bed, only her eyes and the top of her head visible over the Cosmopolitan magazine she had been reading aloud.

 

"Sorry." Lexa smiled apologetically, hoping it would soften her up, but it only made her narrow her eyes. They had been best friends for too long, so consequently she knew her too well. Clarke was probably the only person she couldn't talk her way out of trouble with.

 

"Don't make me kick your ass," she warned. Lexa laughed, moving off the chair to lie beside her on the bed. Her weight tipped toward Clarke slightly as she sank into the mattress and their sides pressed together.

 

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Where were we?"

 

"I had just reached the juicy part. And I mean literally juicy, she shoved a peach up her vagina," she added, gesturing at the article in explanation. Lexa made a face.

 

"Ew, Clarke, come on? Like I needed to know that."

 

Clarke smirked. "At least it wasn't another cucumber."

 

"Ugh."

 

"Okay, fine, we don't have to read it. If you're ready, we can just go."

 

Lexa sighed, glancing at her reflection again. She opened her mouth to say _I guess,_ but before she could, Clarke cut across her. "No, don't do that."

 

"Do what?"

 

"That thing you do." She motioned toward the mirror.

 

"What thing?" muttered Lexa defensively, but she ducked her head down in guilt, pretending to be absorbed in the magazine. Clarke snapped it shut, forcing Lexa to lift her gaze again.

 

"Where you look at yourself like you don't see it."

 

"See what?"

 

Clarke was looking at her with that  _something_ in her eyes again. Lexa’s stomach contracted, tightened with a low sweep. She bit down on her bottom lip as though it would help her suppress the panic fluttering within her with almost as much ferocity as the heat surging through her. Why did this happen all the time? Why did Clarke make her feel like this?

 

"You know what."

 

Lexa couldn't resist a challenge, she really couldn't, and she could hear it in Clarke’s voice. She arched a brow. "Tell me."

 

"No."

 

Lexa watched her in silence for a second, struggling to decipher the look in Clarke’s eyes. Wariness? Curiosity? Maybe it was both.

 

Harder still was it for Lexa to decipher how she herself felt. Since she was ten years old and realized she was in love with her best friend, she had been swamped and overwhelmed by these confusing feelings. Sometimes she just didn’t understand what they meant or how she felt. She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel this way, knew she would go to hell and her father would disown her if he knew it wasn’t just a phase, but sometimes she convinced herself that this was enough. So she loved her best friend, big deal. As long as she didn’t act on it, right?

 

But that was where it grew confusing. She shouldn’t act on it, yeah, but…sometimes it felt like trying not to breathe. She couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering down to Clarke’s mouth any more than she stop her own lungs from expanding with air.

 

"Show me," she ventured, her heart in her throat. Clarke’s brows lifted, just a fraction. Lexa’s eyes couldn't stray from the movement of her full lips parting.

 

And here was that moment, where their words hung in the air and the tension solidified it so much so that they could hardly breathe. It would just take a simple movement. Just Lexa’s head, a couple inches forward, and she could finally taste her lips. Just that one movement and she could kiss her best friend, who had been driving her crazy for an immeasurable amount of time—

 

"Hey, girls, are you hungry?"

 

Lexa and Clarke both swiftly leaned away from one another, Clarke fumbling to open up her Cosmo magazine while Lexa pretended to be fascinated with her neatly trimmed nails. Titus cracked the door open, popping his bald head in to say, "I'm about to put some chicken nuggets in the oven if you want any."

 

"No thanks, Dad," said Lexa in an overtly airy voice. "There should be hot dogs at the bonfire." She kept it vague. She always kept it vague. If her father knew that the bonfire parties Murphy threw were basically just claustrophobic cesspools of teenage sin, he definitely would never let her out of the house again. 

 

"Oh, okay." Mr. Woods disappeared, then reappeared half a second later. "Have you talked to your mother today?"

 

Lexa cleared her throat, silent for a beat too long. "No, she's probably busy."

 

"Mmm. Well, you girls have fun tonight."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Woods," said Clarke with a smile, watching him retreat. She looked at Lexa, who was avoiding eye contact.

 

Lexa had never been particularly close to her mother, but she had at least been closer to her when she used to live with her. Once they divorced, Lexa lived with her father, since Titus had a steady job as a pastor at Polis Church and Nia was living with different boyfriends in different apartments every other month while raising Ontari. Lexa eventually went from seeing her every other weekend to seeing her every other month. Nia was notorious for not answering her calls, and despite how blasé Lexa tried to act about how much of a jerk her mother was, Clarke knew it really, truly bothered her. And that broke Clarke’s heart.

 

She could only assume that Nia was being an asshole today, so Clarke leaned forward to save Lexa by saying gently, "We can leave now if you want. We could stop by my house so I can change."

 

Lexa gave a rather dramatic sigh. “About time. You take forever to get ready.”

 

Clarke closed the magazine again and let it slide to the floor before hopping to her feet. “Me?” she said indignantly, taking Lexa’s hand as she helped her off the bed. "Just 'cause I can't _inhale_ breakfast food like you..."

 

"Yeah, but that's just because I was going to lose my mind if I had to listen to Lincoln blab on again about his latest workout sessions at the gym.” Lexa started to give Clarke a withering glare, but Clarke had that infuriatingly gorgeous smile fixed on her, so instead Lexa just gave a huff of breath and led the way out of her room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the bonfire :) 
> 
> Sorry it takes a week or so to update, it would be more often with this fic, but I lost my internet at home and I work 12 hour shifts at the hospital so it can take a while sometimes to find the time to travel to use free wifi at a nearby college.  
> Thank you all so much for your comments, they mean the world!
> 
> I hope you guys had a great Christmas/whatever you celebrate or don't!


	8. The One with Clarke at the Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa go to the bonfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, folks!
> 
> For those awaiting an update for my Clexa HP/Triwizard Tournament AU, don't worry, an update is coming and hopefully within the week!

Clarke knew she shouldn't have agreed to come to this stupid bonfire.

 

Everyone was already trashed, of course, and Finn kept being annoying and hovering nearby her, even when she finally snapped and snarled at him to leave her the fuck alone. Of course, then he just shouted back that he was "just trying to talk!" and Clarke had to scream at him until she was red-faced and fuming, and Finn mumbled and muttered under his breath about "what a girl" Clarke was being until Murphy pushed a third can of beer into his clumsy hands and he started stumbling around on the beach playing football with the rest of his football team instead.

 

Parties were so much more enjoyable when Clarke could be drinking too, and considering what a dick Finn had been acting like, she definitely wanted to be drunk right now, but her mother had just flown in this morning so she was already irritable, and Clarke didn't want to go home and let her catch her smelling like alcohol. Abby wouldn't notice if it wasn’t much, but she would definitely notice if Clarke reeked of it. Or of puke. In which case, Clarke prayed to God that no one would vomit on her.

 

Right now, the only danger of that happening lay in her best friend. From the moment Titus had asked Lexa if she'd spoken to her mother, she had become withdrawn, quiet, and grumpy. The moment they arrived at bonfire, she took a bottle of vodka from Miller and dropped her towel in the sand to go wade through the lake shoreline. Now, though, she was on fast track to getting drunk off her ass, or so it seemed. By midnight, Clarke had had more than enough (but in a way, not enough) of seeing her running around in her bikini top and shorts, cursing and randomly dropping her phone, nearly plummeting it into the water twice and once almost accidentally tossing it into the fire.

 

 _Damn it, not again_. Clarke sighed as she got to her feet; she had been watching Lexa through the fire as she meandered along the shoreline again, and it looked like she had her phone in her hand again.

 

"Lex," she called out. Lexa didn't turn at her voice, so Clarke just hurried forth in vague exasperation, taking Lexa’s phone out of her hand and stuffing it into one of the pockets in her shorts. "Ugh, you smell like booze. Come on, let's go sit down by the fire."

"I have vodka." Lexa lifted the bottle and offered it to Clarke as Clarke hooked an arm around her and started to steer her back towards the bonfire.

 

"Let's sit down first," said Clarke, making a mental note to not let Lexa have another bottle after that.

 

"What a good friend you are," said Lexa. For some reason, Lexa found that hilarious and laughed nearly the whole way across the shore.

 

Lexa’s drunken peals of laughter echoed across the beach as she tripped over Jasper Jordan. He was passed out drunk, and the plastic blue cup he loosely gripped in his hand was tipped over; half of the liquid was now soaked into the side of his shirt. Clarke pressed her hand more firmly into the small of Lexa’s back and determinedly led her toward the bonfire flickering in the distance.

 

There was only one more casualty, which wasn't too significant considering it was just Lexa driving her heel into Cage Wallace’s balls as she walked over him, but either way she was relieved when they finally reached the fire.

 

In all honesty, it was almost surprising that Clarke was the one taking care of Lexa. Considering her blowout with Finn today, she had kind of planned on getting trashed herself, though as she mentioned before, her mother being here kind of ruined that from happening. Yet Lexa had been the one to down four shots and steal a bottle of straight vodka from Murphy's stash. She had been acting weird anyway, ever since Titus mentioned Nia to her, and Lexa suspected the fact that it was her mother’s birthday must have something to do with it.

 

"Lexa, you should move from there," warned Clarke when Lexa plopped down directly in front of the fire. She sighed when Lexa didn't listen. "Okay, let's scoot you back a little." Clarke swaddled her arms around Lexa’s stomach so she could pull her back an adequate distance. Clarke remained standing for a moment, watching to make sure Lexa would lean back against the logs and not try to scoot nearer to the fire.

 

"It's hot, but it feels nice," murmured Lexa raising an arm and bearing a palm toward the warmth.

 

Clarke eased down onto the log beside the one Lexa was leaning against. "Be careful, Lex." Lexa nodded, taking another drink of the vodka.

 

Clarke narrowed her eyes as she watched her for another moment, deliberating how best to take the vodka from her without causing her to throw a fit to keep it. She'd had too much though. Clarke studied Lexa’s expression carefully. Her jaw was clenched, the muscles thrown into relief by the firelight, illuminating every beautifully etched contour of her face. Her best friend was so…stunning. She was gorgeous.

 

Fuck, Clarke’s heart was beating fast. It had been all night, ever since Lexa first peeled her shirt off and Clarke watched her wading through the water in that red bikini top. Her mouth tightened at the thought of it, at the fact that she was thinking that way about her best friend, about a girl. Why did she make her feel like this?

 

"Give," Clarke finally said, extending a hand and waggling her fingers, hoping that would let Lexa know she wasn't too serious.

 

Lexa held the bottle to her chest and huddled over, half turning as though that would hide it from Clarke’s view and mind. "Don't take it away," she implored, but Clarke ignored her and reached beneath her arm, gripping the bottle tightly and yanking it free. Lexa aimed a glare at her, but Clarke just shook her head, raising the bottle to her mouth.

 

"Relax. I just want to share."

 

"Oh."

 

They sat in silence for a while, no noise except the sputtering fire. Clarke chewed on her lip, wondering how best to begin the conversation she knew they needed to have. Something had upset Lexa enough that she decided to get trashed off her face, so clearly Clarke had to get it out of her. It was obvious whom it was regarding. Lexa’s mother was an asshole. "So," began Clarke nonchalantly, setting down the bottle before she drew her towel around her more snugly. "You wanna tell me what has you so upset?"

 

"Nothing," said Lexa at once. There was a crease between her brows, and the corners of her lips were tilted down. She was really upset, but she would open up soon, Clarke was sure of that. Lexa drew her towel more tightly around her shoulders before she took the vodka again. Clarke resisted the urge to sigh. Lexa was going to make herself sick, and guess who would be the one holding back her hair while she vomited it all up? Not that Clarke minded. She would always take care of Lexa (and that was a deep and scary thought she should probably not think about right now).

 

Lexa drank a long swig and shut her eyes. Clarke waited, watching her. "My mom is my mom," she finally muttered, and opened up her eyes to level her pained, glossy gaze onto Clarke.

 

Not a surprise, but Clarke figured Lexa would appreciate it if she at least tried to lighten it up with a joke. She arched a brow. "Really? I didn’t know.”

 

Lexa shook her head as she brought the bottle to her lips again. "No, no. I mean…why is _she_ my mom? She's an ass. I haven't talked to her for three months. She didn't text me yesterday or today about the game. And it's her birthday today, and I've texted her four times and called her twice, and she hasn't answered me."

 

Clarke kept her face deliberately impassive as she listened to Lexa. If Lexa knew she felt sorry for her (which she did, but she just didn’t want to see the proof), she would stop talking. That was always what happened with Lexa. She was like Clarke, kept her emotions bottled up. They were best friends, though, so they could talk to each other. But Lexa hated it when anyone pitied her. It wasn't like Clarke could help it. She hated seeing Lexa upset over anything, and her mom was a jerk.

 

Damn it. By the way Lexa was looking at her, her gaze intently focused on Clarke’s, and by the slight crease in her brows, she knew Clarke pitied her.

 

"Will you stop that?" she ordered. Lexa leaned back, clearly affronted. Damn it again. "It's like you're trying to read my mind," Clarke added, hoping that would appease her, but she couldn't completely keep the irritation out of her voice.

 

Lexa frowned as she swallowed down another gulp. Clarke bent down to snatch the vodka from her so she could take a drink herself. "I _am_ trying to read your mind," she said honestly. "I want to know what you're thinking."

 

Clarke shifted her gaze up at the sky, stalling as she observed the twinkling stars. If Lexa knew what she was thinking…

 

_Hi, Lex. Generally there's a lot on my mind, and that's all down to you. Sometimes, I want to hold your hand. Sometimes, I want to slam you against the wall and kiss you, which is basically a suicide wish considering your dad is a pastor and would burn us at the stake, plus you've been my best friend since we were seven. By all accounts, I should have purely sisterly feelings toward you, but instead, you're what I'm thinking about late at night, when I'm taking care of business (business that only exists in the first place no thanks to you). On top of that, most of the time I want to go track down your mom and beat her upside the head with a baseball bat, because she doesn't deserve you as her daughter, not at all. She's a selfish ice queen who can go choke. Of course, I can't tell you any of this, because of what you'll think of me if I do._

 

Clarke gnawed on the inside of my cheek as she deliberated on how exactly to tell Lexa that her mother was garbage. Maybe she should just be blunt about it. "I'm thinking that your mom is an asshole. You shouldn't get so upset by her."

 

"She’s my mom!"

 

 _Yeah, not the best thing to say, Clarke,_ she told herself sourly. No matter how much of an asshole Nia was, she was still Lexa’s mother. Clarke should understand that, considering how she felt about her own mother and stepfather sometimes.

 

"No, Lex, I mean..." Agitated by her lack of tact, Clarke set down the vodka in the sand and moved to sit on the log Lexa was leaning against. Clarke bent down to grasp her toweled arm and bracingly squeezed it as she said, "I mean that you don't deserve that. It's not your fault that she's like that. It's her own loss, and I know you'll still be upset, because in the end, she is your mom. But I mean you shouldn't get upset because...because I guess it's something not worth getting upset over." Clarke bent farther down, hoping perhaps that the closer her gaze got to Lexa’s, the more what she said would impact her. "I don't know how to explain this. It's like, I know it's your mom and that's always going to hurt, but I wish it wouldn't, I wish it wouldn't upset you so much because it's her doing that, and that's not your fault."

 

Clarke stared at Lexa, praying that she at least got the gist of what Clarke was trying to say, and that it made her feel better. Instead, she found herself marveling at how beautiful her best friend’s eyes were, fringed with impossible lashes and so green that the firelight reflecting in them appeared to turn her entire eyes gold. "Um."

 

God. Clarke straightened, immediately moving back from Lexa. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and her cheeks felt inflamed. She shouldn't have gotten that close to her, and who knows what her expression had been? She probably freaked her out. She had probably been freaking her out ever since she had been so bold flirting with her, back on her living room couch yesterday. Clarke was usually so in control of herself, but when it came to Lexa…  _God, it's always so hard to think around you._

 

Lexa took a swig of the vodka and then passed it to Clarke. "I know you're right. You're always right."

 

Whew. Okay, she wasn't creeped out. She'd just actually been affected by what Clarke said. Thank God. Clarke forced herself to relax, and smirked at Lexa after taking a mouthful of the vodka. "Finally, you admit it."

 

Lexa’s brow quirked, and Clarke knew she wasn't about to just compliment Clarke and get away with it. "Hey, you're not always right about everything. Look at your loser boyfriend, for example."

 

 _Here we go_. Clarke knew Lexa must have been waiting all night to jump into her  _'I told you so!'s._ Clarke rolled her eyes, biting her tongue to resist snarking back at her. She took another drink to keep her mouth busy.

 

"He's a total asshole,” announced Lexa. “You shouldn't be with him."

 

"Oh, is that right?" said Clarke, amused. She wasn't about to give Lexa the satisfaction.

 

"Yes, that's right!" Lexa slurred, and made a wild frown at it, as though she couldn't believe how tipsy she was. She cleared her throat. "I already tell you all the time how he's so rude and disrespectful to women. He's so sexist. He's always making those stupid women-should-make-me-a-sandwich jokes. It's so annoying. And he doesn't deserve you at all."

 

The soft laughter escaped before Clarke could stop it, though she did manage to turn it into snickers behind her hand. She couldn't help it; Lexa was so cute when she raged about Finn.

 

"I'm so serious, Clarke!” insisted Lexa. “He’s so annoying and he keeps bugging you about fucking him even though he knows you’re waiting. I want to _punch_ him.”

 

Ha. "A regular knight in shining armor." Clarke smirked, winking at Lexa again. Curiously, she wondered if Lexa was really blushing, or if it was just the alcohol in her blood.

 

"Really," persisted Lexa, clearly ignoring Clarke’s comment. "You're so awesome and he's a total tool. You should dump him. He doesn't deserve you."

 

Jesus, Lexa. It was pathetic how a simple quasi-compliment like that could make Clarke’s heart pitter-patter in her chest. "Then he's a lucky tool," she joked, trying her hardest to sound totally nonchalant. She took another sip from the bottle, hoping desperately that Lexa would just drop it, because Clarke couldn't, not tonight. Not when she had spent this day all wrong. She should have woken alone in her own bed; she should have been upset at her fight with Finn. She shouldn't have woken up with an ache inside her and struggled all day to keep her eyes off her best friend's bikini-garbed body. She shouldn't be sitting here, wanting more than anything to kiss her.

 

"No, he's a dick," said Lexa, her voice thick. "You're amazing and he's just an idiot. And he doesn't even  _kiss_ you right."

 

Clarke laughed, because God, Lexa was right. Kissing Finn was what she imagined kissing a dishwasher would be like. It was a wonder she hadn't drowned in his saliva. Sometimes Clarke wondered...was he really worth dating just for her parents’ approval? Or was she only with him just to distract herself from...

 

"Honestly, Clarke. You're so perfect," added Lexa, her voice turning almost hopeless, and Clarke felt another long drag in her heart at her words. "He's an asshole who doesn't deserve you. No one deserves you. You're so perfect," she repeated, and Clarke’s breath hitched. God. Lexa. What did it mean when she said stuff like that? How far did friendship go before it was blurred with…something else?

 

Faintly, Clarke could hear the fire still crackling and the lake waves hitting the shore, but it was so distant to her ears. She was hyper aware of each rapid beat of her heart, of the overtly casual way she slowly drew breath in and blew it out. She was no longer smiling. She was surveying Lexa, trying her best to appear sane even though there was a war raging in her mind.

 

Maybe she could kiss her. After all, they’d been building up to this, hadn't they? It was inevitable, wasn't it?

 

Lexa wasn't looking away from her. Did she feel the same way? Surely she wanted to kiss Clarke too. Clarke thought, when they were close to it yesterday, and earlier today, that Lexa had looked at her lips…that she had wanted to kiss Clarke just as much as Clarke wanted to kiss her.

 

But God, wasn't this  _crazy?_

 

Clarke blushed as she ripped her gaze from Lexa’s and instead turned unseeing eyes toward the lake. She wished she knew what Lexa was thinking. Did she want Clarke to kiss her or not? What if she just did it? Just took a risk and…

 

But what if she didn't want her to? Clarke couldn't bear that….couldn't imagine kissing her, and getting shoved away, Lexa crying out "What are you doing?", the look of disgust in her face… just the thought of it was like a stab to Clarke’s heart. And most of all, she didn't want to get her in trouble with Titus...

 

Lexa reached over to snatch the vodka bottle back, and Clarke felt a tingle move up her spine at the feeling of Lexa’s fingers brushing hers. She sat there shivering for a moment while Lexa drank the remainder of the vodka. The silence between them was stretching, and Clarke was growing more aware of the certain charge to their atmosphere. She was trembling, her mouth had gone dry, and the ache in her heart had grown into almost a dull throbbing. It felt like someone was pushing against her stomach, pulling at her insides, panicking her with this indefinite ache that told her with every fiber of her being that she had to do _something_ , had to be closer to her, had to kiss her—

 

Clarke risked a glance at her. Lexa was frowning, looking down at her lap, clearly deep in thought. What was she thinking? Was she at all affected, like Clarke was? Fuck, what does she  _DO?_

 

Maybe she could test the waters, so to speak. Just…just move closer to her, and see how she reacted.

 

Clarke moved on the log, shifting closer to Lexa. Her left leg and left arm were pressed to Lexa’s right leg and arm. It was crazy how such a simple touch made Clarke’s skin feel like it was on fire, rippling with nerves. She didn't know if Lexa wanted this, but Clarke had never wanted anything more.

Clarke remained still and tried to regulate her breathing, her head spinning. It’s a sin. It’s a sin. Lexa's father preached about this every Sunday. Preached about resisting temptations, about remaining pure and—

 

And Lexa’s leg pressed harder against Clarke’s as she shifted, inching closer.

 

Clarke fidgeted, determinedly staring out at the water, though she couldn't see anything. Her jaw was as rigid as her back, but she chewed on the inside of her lower lip, thinking herself into a frenzy. Maybe she should just leave. Maybe she should just kiss her and see what she thinks. Maybe she should just ask her if she could kiss her, and see what she says.

 

It was almost unconsciously that she moved even closer to her, now sitting beside her in the sand, and she turned her head to face her. Lexa’s eyes were widened slightly, and they were a little glossy, but they were focused on Clarke. Clarke watched them flicker down to settle on her lips; her heart lodged itself into her throat. Lexa was looking at her lips, she was looking at her lips. Did that mean she wanted to kiss her too?

 

Lexa leaned toward her just a fraction, and Clarke’s heart leapt, but then Lexa looked away. 

Clarke kept leaning forward, closing the distance Lexa had started to cross; when Lexa turned to look at her again, Lexa’s breath hissed as she inhaled sharply. Their noses brushed, which must have surprised her, because she dropped the empty bottle. Biting her tongue at her own daring, Clarke put her hand on Lexa’s and laced their fingers together. As she gazed steadily into Lexa’s hooded eyes, she felt her nerves melt away. 

Lexa’s head jerked forward marginally. Clarke didn't move, wondering whether she should just go the distance and kiss her, or if she should let Lexa cross the line and kiss her. Lexa held Clarke’s gaze for a moment before looking at her mouth again. She closed the distance between them.

 

Lexa was so beautiful. Clarke hadn't been this close to her before, with the skin of their lips nearly touching. Unable to stop herself, she looked down at Lexa’s parted lips. They looked so full, so soft…

 

Clarke’s breathing was definitely uneven as she shifted her gaze back onto Lexa’s eyes. She was still looking at Clarke’s mouth.

 

And Clarke couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed her best friend.

 

 

 

 _Oh my God._ Her head reeled. How could this feel so good, just the pressure of her lips on hers? Clarke had kissed before, but what she called kissing before didn't do this justice, not even close. This was heavenly soft lips touching hers.

 She  moved back slightly before pressing in again. She wanted to relive it. She kissed her three times, and each time was as incredible as the first.

  

Clarke parted her lips, brushed them against Lexa’s and swallowed her own sigh, her head spinning and floating like she was lost in the clouds. Lexa’s mind seemed to kick in at that point; she started kissing Clarke back. God, could she fucking kiss. There was too much alcohol in both of their systems, but Clarke had never had a kiss like this. Never had she imagined a kiss could even feel like this, like her world was imploding.

 

The ache in her was on the rebound, and she felt the pull stronger in her lower stomach, felt an insistent yearning between her legs. She shuddered when Lexa’s tongue swept across her lower lip seeking entrance; Clarke parted her lips at once, and nearly whimpered as the taste of Lexa exploded in her mouth. She tasted like vodka mostly, but it was something else, something that was intrinsically her, something rich and sharp and—Clarke finally tasted her best friend, and she tasted sublime.

 

Lexa cupped the back of her neck and tugged her closer to her, her mouth moving against Clarke’s with more insistence. Clarke felt like she was drowning. She had never felt this much before. Her heart ached, her body ached; she wanted to press even closer to her, but at the same time, there was no room to breathe. Lexa was everywhere, burning like the brightest light, yet Clarke wanted more of her. She had tasted, and now she wanted to touch. She drew the towel down from Lexa’s shoulders, blood rushing through her veins as she traced her fingertips along Lexa’s skin, shoulder to wrist. Suddenly lost in her urge to touch places she was definitely sure were not appropriate to want to touch on her best friend, she clapped her grip onto Lexa’s side. Pleasure spiked through her when Lexa’s hips bucked, shifting her so close to Clarke she was nearly in her lap, but then she broke away from the kiss, and surfacing from it was like breaking water when Clarke desperately wanted to stay in it.

 

Her eyes fluttered open with effort; it was like she had been in a dream and was being forced to wake up. Lexa’s eyes were big and dark and gorgeous, her lips slightly swollen, her cheeks reddened, her hair mussed from where Clarke had touched it.

 

Clarke wasn't ready to stop what this was, not yet. Maybe not ever. She could happily live in this moment for the rest of her life. She was terrified as to what that meant, but she’d worry about it later.

 

She buried her hands in Lexa’s hair and tugged her back, closing her mouth over hers.

 

The ache in her just kept growing, and the hand that was on her side twitched. What would happen if she touched…?

 

Lexa rolled her tongue against Clarke’s. Clarke’s whimper escaped her before she even knew it was happening, and she didn't care. She bit down into Lexa’s bottom lip and felt the apex between her thighs throb at the resulting moan.

 

"Lexa.” Clarke hadn't even meant to say her name, but she did. Her voice was low and thick with need, and she hoped it told her what she wanted.  _You can touch me. Touch me._

 

Lexa’s lips sought a particularly tender spot on her neck for her to focus her attention on, and Clarke blindly gripped her back, fingers scrabbling along her skin as she struggled to regulate her ragged breathing. She could feel Lexa's fingers at the skin of her lower back, dancing there like she was hesitant as to whether she wanted to move them somewhere else.

 

Clarke was just about to ask her "What are you _waiting_ for?" when the person lying nearest to them suddenly moaned and stirred. She and Lexa jumped to their feet and stumbled several steps back from one another. They regarded one another, and Clarke swore just the look in Lexa’s eyes and the way her chest was heaving made her want to dart over to her and peel off her clothes and _fuck_ that's not an appropriate thought to have over your best friend who is also a girl.

 

"Lexa?" The asshole who had woken up had rolled over and spotted Lexa, who stood nearest him.

 

"What?" snarled Lexa, and Clarke glared at her. _Why the fuck would you talk to him? Why wouldn't you just ignore him and walk back over to me and take my hand and we could go to your car and—_

 

Lexa looked down, and the obvious humiliation and regret on her face stuck like a slap in the face to Clarke. Oh God, she regretted it. She didn't want her. Something was wrong, something went wrong. Clarke’s stomach dropped nauseatingly fast. _Lexa didn't feel the same way._

 

"What time is it?"

 

Lexa probed her pockets for her phone, fury evident on her face. Clarke’s heart sank as her stomach took another sickening turn. Lexa was angry with her now, probably. "Half past four," said Lexa, and Clarke could tell she was trying to keep the anger out of her voice, but what for? Myles was half-asleep so it wouldn't bother him.

 

"Ugh." Myles ran a hand over his sleepy face before he started to struggle to his feet. Clarke moved over automatically to help him up, more for something to do rather than just being nice. Lexa didn't move at all.

 

She was obviously freaking out over the fact that they just kissed. God, she was probably disgusted with herself. Had she really wanted her back at all? Had Clarke just imagined it because she wanted it so badly?

 

Clarke’s eyes stung and a lump obscured her throat. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible before Lexa saw her cry, or before she started questioning her. "Hey, look…" Clarke let go of Myles so she could get her own phone out and stare at it to avoid eye contact with Lexa. "I should probably get going. You know if my parents realize I'm gone, they'll freak out. I'll—I'll see you later." Clarke chanced a glance at Lexa, repulsed with herself when she saw the expression frozen on her face: regret.

 

"Okay," she heard Lexa say softly as she turned and started walking toward the street. Clarke’s house was two blocks away, and Clarke knew she would have to deal with her heart exuding pain each step of the way.

 

Clarke had thought that kissing her was all she wanted, all she needed. Now she was even more fucked. Because if she hadn't known before, she did now: she was attracted to her best friend. And even worse than that, Lexa didn't feel the same.

 _Why would she?_ thought Clarke bitterly.

 

Lexa was perfect, after all. Clarke wasn't good enough. Clarke would never be good enough. She should know that by now.

 

Even now, as she walked down the street, each step as numbing as the last, she knew what was about to happen. She would enter her home, and listen to her stepfather tell her that she was out too late and her mother tell her that wasn’t good enough because Clarke should be studying instead or she would never be a doctor, and Clarke would go up to her room and take a shower and crawl into bed and close her eyes and listen to the words "you aren't good enough" swirling around her head while tears slid down her cheeks and she imagined Lexa’s lips burning into her own. If any of them knew what happened…Titus would go mental.

It wasn’t even just that Clarke was a girl and Lexa was a girl. Even if she were a boy, she still wouldn’t be good enough for Lexa.

 

Clarke had years of proof. Years of handing her mother report cards and wincing at the disappointed expressions in response to the one A-. Years of Kane hinting she should join more athletic teams, that she should stay in shape. Years of listening to the both of them expressing their concern (along with Titus’s brow furrowing in a frown) at how unlike Aden, Reese didn’t like to play with boy toys and maybe their big sister shouldn’t encourage that by giving Reese barbies even if they did make him smile. Years of dreams where she remembered her father, remembered how he just hadn’t been able to hold on, remembered how her mother missed his death because Clarke had a parent-teacher conference for being naughty and not following rules.

 

It was all stupid, Clarke knew that, but when the sadness rose up within her, everything small and large swirled together and she’d find herself crying so long her face felt numb. Usually, Lexa was here to hold her, to stroke her skin and stare at her with those deep green eyes and whisper that everything would be okay. She never told Clarke she was silly for feeling worthless, but she always, always reminded her all the reasons she wasn’t.

 

Now a new fear coursed through her. What if everything changed now?

 

Sometimes Clarke could convince herself she didn’t have those thoughts. Sometimes she told herself she only liked flirting with Lexa because it was fun and she was flustered because it was awkward and that was that, but Clarke wasn’t as good at lying to herself as she’d like to be.

 

Or maybe she just needed to try harder.

 

It wasn’t as big a deal as it seemed.

 

(her heart was still pounding)

 

So they kissed; so? Tons of people kissed, especially at parties. Straight girls kissed other straight girls. It was normal and human and innocent curiosity. As long as it never, ever happened again…

 

(the gnawing sensation wasn’t disappointment, it wasn’t)

 

They had been drinking and emotional and in the moment and it just happened, a simple kiss. Luckily nothing more…

 

(her stomach lurched and skin grew warm at the thought)

 

And that was it. The one and only time such a mistake would happen.

 

(she wondered if she’d ever get any better at believing the lies).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps. I do have an alternate version written in Lexa's POV I can post for the next chapter if you guys want, it just needs a bit of editing. I've converted this bonfire scene 3 times (from my original fiction, to Quinntana, to Clexa) X'D  
> Hope you have a great holiday...and let's send out positive vibes so 2017 is much, much better than 2016!


	9. The One with Lexa at the Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos (and bookmarks).  
> With the USA being taken over by a cross between a swollen tomato and a rotting cheeto, we should certainly be cleansing our souls with as much gay fanfiction as possible.  
> Hope you enjoy x

Lexa’s laughter echoed across the beach as she stumbled over someone's body, a half empty bottle of vodka held loosely by its neck in her left hand and her right hand tightly gripping Clarke's sturdy arm. Lexa tripped again over another body, her heel digging into the ribs of whoever it was. The person groaned; Lexa stifled her giggle behind her hand as she staggered on.

 

She didn't know how she was walking, to be honest. She didn't know why she and Clarke hadn’t yet stumbled, tripped, and collapsed in a drunken heap on the sand. Clarke had always been good at holding her alcohol, but Lexa thought she would have been drinking excessively after her fight with Finn. Yet she was the one who was proving the support and balance that enabled Lexa to finally reach the campfire, where she plopped herself down on the sand right in front of it.

 

"Okay, let's scoot you back a little,” said Clarke, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s midsection and dragging her a few feet back until Lexa could lean against the logs that had been placed in a circle around the fire for seating.

 

"It's hot, but it feels nice," said Lexa, lifting her arm and holding her palm toward the fire. She was close enough that she could only hold her hand out for a few seconds before it became too hot and she had to drop it.

 

"Be careful, Lex," warned Clarke as she eased down on the log beside Lexa’s, and Lexa nodded, lifting the vodka and taking another gulp. Her eyes were no longer stinging, and she felt pleasantly warm. She wasn't trashed yet, but she had definitely loosened up.

 

"Give," said Clarke, holding her hand toward Lexa and wiggling her fingers expectantly.

 

"Don't take it away," pleaded Lexa, turning to shield the bottle from her, clutching it to her chest and hunching over so Clarke couldn't see it let alone take it.

 

But Clarke’s hand snaked down under Lexa’s arms and snatched the bottle. She tugged it out of Lexa’s grip. When Lexa turned to her, a frustrated glint in her eyes, Clarke shook her head, lifting the bottle to her lips.

 

"Relax. I just want to share."

 

"Oh," said Lexa, watching her beautiful friend (because she is _so_ beautiful) take a swig.

 

"So," said Clarke casually after a while, setting the half-drank bottle in the sand and drawing her towel more tightly around her shoulders. "You want to tell me what has you so upset?"

 

"Nothing," Lexa automatically lied, mimicking Clarke by securing her own towel around her shoulders. Lexa quickly reached down and grabbed the vodka, and while Clarke looked exasperated, she didn't say anything. Lexa took a long drink and closed her eyes as she felt the liquid trickling down her throat to settle in her stomach. It was so warm, and helped settle her nerves. "My mom is my mom," she confessed.

 

One of Clarke's perfectly tweezed eyebrows arched upward. " _Really?_ I didn’t know,” she said candidly, but even despite the fact that Lexa was half-drunk, she could detect the subtle note of mockery and humor in her voice.

 

"No, no." Lexa shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. "I mean…why is she my mom? She’s an ass.” She hiccupped. “I haven’t talked to her for three months. She didn’t text me yesterday or today about the game. And—and it’s her birthday today, and I’ve texted her four times and called her twice, and…she still hasn’t answered me.” Her voice wavered at the end, even though she tried (and drunkenly failed) to school her expression into a stoic, indifferent one.

 

Clarke listened with no emotion on her face, her features blank. But Lexa knew her eyes held her secrets, so she peered more closely at them. She could see sadness, unhappiness.

 

"Will you stop that?" demanded Clarke, blue eyes narrowing shrewdly. Lexa leaned back, a little hurt, though her emotions were admittedly intensified from the vodka. _Okay then._

 

"It's like you're trying to read my mind," she explained, sounding annoyed.

 

Lexa frowned in response as she took another drink. Clarke seized it to take a swallow herself. "I _am_ trying to read your mind," said Lexa sincerely. "I want to know what you're thinking."

 

Clarke gazed at the sky thoughtfully. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated whatever was going on in her head. "I'm thinking that your mom is an asshole,” she said finally. “You shouldn't get so upset by her."

 

"She's my mom!" she exclaimed. No matter how much of an ass she is, it would always hurt her. Because bottom line, Lexa was her daughter and Nia should treat her like it.

 

"No, Lex, I mean..." Clarke made a stressed sound, dropped the vodka stood, leaving her log to come sit on Lexa’s, right above and beside her. She leaned over, gripped Lexa’s toweled arms and squeezed for emphasis as she said, "I mean that you don't deserve that. It's not your fault that she's like that. It's her own loss, and I know you'll still be upset, because in the end, she is your mom. But I mean you shouldn't get upset because...because I guess it's something not worth getting upset over." Her brows knitted and a crease formed between them; her voice grew more frustrated as she went, "I don't know how to explain this, Lexa, it's like, I _know_ it's your mom and that's always going to hurt, but I wish it wouldn't, I wish it wouldn't upset you so much because it's her doing that, and that's not your fault."

 

Her face was only a few inches away; Lexa felt another heat, a new kind, rush through her body. It left her legs quivering. She could see the fire flickering in the deep blue of Clarke’s eyes.

 

"Um." Her throat had gone dry; she struggled to think of something to say. Clarke straightened, her face drawing away, which helped Lexa’s concentration. She trembled inside. She could never think straight around her. Literally.

 

She took a swig of the vodka and then passed it on to Clarke. "I know you're right. You're always right."

 

Her strained expression finally relaxed, and she smirked at Lexa after taking another sip of the vodka. "Finally you admit it."

 

"Hey, you're not always right about everything," challenged Lexa, returning the smirk. "Look at your loser boyfriend, for example."

 

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She only took another drink.

 

"He's a total asshole. You shouldn't be with him."

 

"Oh, is that right?" she said. The lilt to her smile showed she wasn’t taking Lexa as serious as Lexa would like.

 

 _"Yes!"_ said Lexa, frowning at how the word was slurred. She cleared her throat. "I already tell you all the time how he's so rude and disrespectful to women. He's _so_ sexist. He's always making those stupid women-should-make-me-a-sandwich jokes. It's so annoying. And he doesn't deserve you at all."

 

Clarke laughed, though she tried to taper it off and ended up only unsuccessfully muffling her snickering behind her hand.

 

"I'm so serious, Clarke!" A warning light went off in Lexa’s head, telling her to _shut up_ , that she had expressed her opinion enough. Normally she would tell Clarke what she thought when she asked, and then close her mouth about it. But she was much less than sober now, and something was urging her on. Maybe it was the fact that Finn was indeed an asshole, and Clarke deserved better. Or maybe Lexa was just jealous. Maybe both. Probably both. Either way, she plunged on. "He’s so annoying and he keeps bugging you about fucking him even though he knows you’re waiting. I want to punch him."

 

Clarke managed to successfully hold back her laugh, but her smirk was obvious and so was the amusement in her eyes. "A regular knight in shining armor.” Clarke winked.

 

Lexa’s cheeks warmed with another blush.

 

"Really," she insisted, deliberately pushing the implication of Clarke’s statement out of her mind.. "You're so _awesome_ and he's a total tool. You _should_ dump him. He doesn't deserve you."

 

"Then he's a lucky tool," she teased before taking another drink.

 

"No, he’s a dick. You're amazing and he's just an idiot. And he doesn't even kiss you right." Clarke laughed, and Lexa went on, "Honestly, Clarke. You're so perfect. He’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you. No one deserves you. You’re so _perfect_ ,” she repeated, and watched as her statement sunk in, as it drew the laughter out of Clarke’s eyes and replaced it with solemnness. _Shit, what am I doing?_

 

There was silence, except for the crackling fire and the waves on the beach. The smile had faded from Clarke's face, and she was looking at Lexa in a mixture of curiosity, wariness, and some kind of unknown intensity that puzzled her. Still, Lexa didn't break eye contact with her. She watched the way Clarke’s cheeks tinged pink before she deliberately turned, looking out at the water. She desperately wondered what she was thinking. God, Lexa _wished_ she could read Clarke’s mind.

 

Lexa waited a beat, then took the bottle of vodka out of her hands and drank the few remaining swigs of it. The silence stretched and grew more charged with something in the air, something that was thick and tense, giving Lexa a dry mouth, a tingling body and a terribly distracting tug in her lower stomach. Her mind was fuzzy and her eyes felt heavy, but her heart was beating rapidly, and her lips felt alive with nerves, perhaps in anticipation. Shame was also slinking into her.

 

She felt guilty. She had never just flat out told Clarke that she was beautiful. She had lightly admitted it when Clarke hinted at her doubt, and had jokingly conveyed it when they went shopping together, but she had never said aloud so seriously that she found Clarke to be beautiful. It was something that should be so simple and harmless. Harper could tell Clarke she was beautiful, and it was okay, they're friends. It should be okay with Clarke and Lexa too. Except Lexa didn't have purely friendly feelings for Clarke, and she was certain Clarke already suspected that. If she hadn't before, she definitely did now.

 

The silence between them was awkward, and nearly so unbearable that Lexa was about to stand up and declare she was going for a walk when Clarke unexpectedly scooted closer to her on the log, to where the skin of Clarke’s right arm and leg and her left arm and leg were barely touching. The sensation was electric, and it unnerved Lexa. How could something so simple have such an effect on her? She had never in her life wanted anything more than to put her mouth on Clarke’s.

 

She didn't dare turn her head to look at her, certain that if she did, she wouldn't be able to resist dipping her head forward and pressing her lips to Clarke's.

 

Lexa stared forward, her eyes slightly wide as she observed the way the moon's reflection wavered on the lake water's surface. She fervently wished she was sober right now, or at least wasn't so close to drunkenness. She was terrified. What if she didn't have enough control? What if, in another five minutes, she couldn't take it anymore and she kissed Clarke? Their relationship would be ruined, surely. Clarke would never talk to her again. Lexa would lose her best friend—

 

Clarke shifted her body, and out of the corner of Lexa’s eyes, she saw Clarke glance at her, jaw set as though she were chewing on the inside of her lower lip. What was she thinking?

 

God, Lexa just wanted to kiss her. She just wanted that one _taste_ of her best friend, despite how off limits she was. How many times had she imagined kissing her? How many nights had she laid awake or fallen asleep dreaming of a chance to be able to have her in that way, even if only for a brief moment? Tears stung Lexa’s eyes at the unfairness of it all. Of her mother not caring. Of Lexa caring too much. Of how much she wished that Clarke were capable of seeing her the same way Lexa saw her. Of how desperate she was to make her smile, and how pathetically easy it was for Clarke to make her happy, by gestures as simple as looking at her or just breathing, just existing.

 

Clarke scooted even closer, and this time she was looking at Lexa, watching her with a type of hooded, cautious intensity. Lexa had a split second to wonder what was happening before she unintentionally looked down and focused her gaze on those full pink lips, just slightly parted to where Lexa could see the white of her teeth. She subconsciously leaned toward her, catching herself before she could angle her lips onto hers. Just as Lexa looked away at the water again, frantically wondering if she should get up and walk away before any damage could be done, Clarke leaned forward, bringing her face close; Lexa turned to look at her and took a sharp inhale of breath at the fact that their noses were only inches apart. Her heart jumped sporadically; she dropped the empty vodka bottle in surprise. Clarke's hand replaced it as she intertwined their fingers. Stunned, Lexa could only look into her eyes and struggle to breathe, as she seemed to melt under her vividly blue gaze.

_Please let me kiss you._

 

She let her head jerk forward a half inch. Clarke didn't move, only continued to watch Lexa, that strange warring of emotions conflicting on her features.

 

Lexa’s gaze flitted around; there were multiple unconscious bodies around the shore. Most people had either left the party or passed out. Would that bother Clarke, that there were people around? Would it make her angry, to be caught kissing a girl?

 

Did it matter? At this rate, with Lexa continuing to draw nearer, she was going to be kissed regardless. Lexa couldn't control her movements even if she tried. In what felt like forever but must have only been an instant, she closed the distance between them. Their breath mixed together, hot and infused with vodka. Was it possible for a heart to beat its way through a chest?

 

Slowly, Clarke’s gaze lowered to hover on Lexa’s parted lips. When she met Lexa’s gaze again, it was smoldering beneath her thick, long lashes. Lexa felt a tremor rush through her body, initiated by the wild kick of her heart. Clarke was too beautiful to cope with. It was _impossible_ to cope with.

 

Clarke tilted her head back and up, bringing her mouth closer to Lexa’s, to where the skin of their bottom lips nearly brushed together.

 

Lexa closed her eyes, struggling to rein herself in. _Pull back_ , she told herself firmly. _Pull back before something happens that you can't take back._

 

Then their lips touched, brushed one another and then pressed together. Shock ripped through her along with a stabbing heat. Had she moved her head forward? Had she kissed her without even meaning to? Had she...

 

Her lips left, and then returned. Left and returned again. Three soft kisses. Three times her heart stopped and started again. Three times her best friend kissed her.

 

For she _was_ kissing her, Lexa realized, marveling as her eyes flew open and took in the sight of Clarke so close to her, her eyes closed and her cheeks reddened with blush. _Oh my God. They were kissing._

 

_Finally._

 

Her lips were so soft and warm, and she tasted incredible. Lexa’s eyes drifted shut as Clarke pulled back and pushed in again. Gently. Tenderly. Her lips were so unbelievably soft. Slowly, tentatively, Lexa did the same. Took her lips away, and then brought them back. Clarke didn't move, only did the same thing again. Lexa took that as a sign of encouragement.

 

Lexa suddenly realized that the way she felt about Clarke was not going to be appeased by a mere kiss. She _wanted_ her. Wanted to push her down in the sand and peel her clothes off her. She just wanted her.

 

And that was what made her realize that she had to make this memorable, and had to work twice has hard through her hazy, drunken mind. She cursed herself for drinking. She had to make this something Clarke wouldn't, couldn't, forget. She kissed her, _really_ kissed her. She parted her lips, slowly closed them over her bottom, then top lip. She felt hyper-aware of everything. Of their hands tightly holding one another. Of the skin of her arm and leg against hers. Of the way she made vodka taste good. Of the rushing noise in Lexa’s ears, and the crazed beating of her heart. Of the heat that had seemed to explode in her skin, her stomach, and the apex between her thighs.

 

She felt her heart sing when Clarke began to move her lips in a sweet, blissful rhythm. When she gently slid her tongue along her bottom lip, silently begging for entry, she easily parted her lips and met Lexa’s tongue with her own. The taste seemed to be explosive. It was even stronger than her lips; the taste of strawberries and vodka. When she swept her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth, she felt her heart being swept away as well. Clarke was simply incredible.

 

It was more than Lexa had dreamed of. As their mouths moved together, Lexa lifted a hand, slipped it beneath Clarke’s damp tangles of heavy hair to cup the back of her neck and bring her even closer. She was growing greedier with her kisses, kissing her faster, deeper. Clarke pulled the towel down from Lexa’s shoulders and trailed her fingertips along her skin, from her shoulder to her wrist. When her grip clapped into Lexa’s side, just under the bottom hem of her shirt, she did not expect her hips to buck in response, nearly planting her in Clarke's lap. Mortified, she pulled back, breaking the kiss.

 

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open, and there was frustration and puzzlement in them. _Oh no. Don't stop._

 

She didn't. Without a word, Clarke lifted a hand to tangle in Lexa’s hair and tugged her back to her, kissing her again.

 

Panic was rising inside Lexa. She wasn't quite herself, not with this alcohol dragging her down. Was she kissing as well as she normally did? Was Clarke appreciating it?

 

_I have to be good for her._

 

Determined, Lexa kissed her more deeply, rolling her tongue against hers, hoping that wasn't stepping over the line. Judging by the whimper Clarke made against her lips, she was guessing she enjoyed it.

 

When Clarke gently sank her teeth into Lexa’s bottom lip, Lexa couldn't stop the moan that escaped. Lust curled into her as easily as the anxiety that ebbed away. She let her hand wander down, over the flare of her back to grip her hip.

 

It felt like lightning had struck her body when Clarke whispered her name. Lexa had never heard her voice like that. It made her lips seek the hollow of her neck while her insides writhed in anticipation. Her fingertips danced near the skin beneath the bottom hem of Clarke’s shirt and she struggled to decide whether or not she dared to slip her hands completely under it. _Or under her skirt. Either worked, really._

 

Then the person nearest to them, who had been lying unconscious near the log across from theirs, suddenly groaned and stirred. Lexa and Clarke jumped apart, standing and stumbling back several steps from one another. They looked at each other, and the heat they were emitting was as palpable as the burning fire crackling between them. Lexa was cursing and raging in her head at the asshole that was currently waking up. _Fuck off. Just let me kiss her again. Let me—_

 

"Lexa?" groaned the person. It was Myles Smith, the freshman who had asked Clarke out earlier this month. That certainly didn’t help Lexa’s mood.

 

"What?" she snapped, eliciting a glare from Clarke. Lexa couldn't help it; this numbskull had just torn her out of what she had only been dreaming about for the past two years.

 

Her cheeks burned in humiliation as the reality of what just happened finally sank in. By the red in Clarke's face and the panic evident in her eyes, she could tell the same thing was happening to her. Lexa’s stomach took a sick twist; did Clakre regret it?

 

"What time is it?" asked Myles, voice thick with sleep. Lexa bit her tongue so she wouldn't scream at him. _The tongue that had just been in Clarke's mouth._

Furious, she fished her phone out of pocket. “Half past four,” she said, struggling to keep her voice at an even level, more for the fact that Clarke was scowling at her rather than it being unfair to Myles since he obviously had no idea what was going on.

 

"Ugh." He scrubbed at his tired face before he slowly started to get to his feet, swaying and stumbling a bit. Clarke reached over to help him up. Lexa didn't move, struggling to contain the crazy amount of emotions rushing through her.

 

"Hey, look…" began Clarke, pulling her own cell phone out of her pocket as she released Myles to fare on his own, leaving him swaying where he stood. She was avoiding Lexa’s gaze. "I should probably get going.” _What? Don’t go._ “If my parents realize I'm gone, they'll freak out."

 

Lexa’s mouth opened and closed, gone dry suddenly. Her mind had been plunged into panic mode.  _Wait. Don't leave. Kiss me again. Don’t hate me please._

 

"I'll—I'll see you later." She caught brief glimpse of the way Clarke’s blue eyes had gone cloudy with…something. Lexa’s heart dropped and her stomach took a sick twist when she realized what it was: shame. Embarrassment. Remorse.

"Okay," she said faintly.

Her heart ached and tears stung her eyes as she watched Clarke turn and walk away, her long golden waves of hair bouncing in the dim light from the half moon shining overhead.

 

Lexa thought kissing Clarke would be perfect, would be the solution to all her problems. She thought it would make her feel better.

She felt worse. Much worse.

 _Great job, Woods. You're fucking ruined._  


	10. The One Where It's Not That Kind of Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa is hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback and continued support of this fic, I'm so happy you guys are enjoying it!
> 
> Those of you who are on Tumblr may have seen, we are going to do a Clexa Week 2017! :D It's going to take place the week of the anniversary of the shitty episode that shall not be named, where all Clexa fans who want to participate will publish new fics and art etc correlating to whatever theme of that day is (which you can still vote on!)  
> Check out this tumblr > https://clexaweek2017.tumblr.com/ for all information! :) I really really hope you all participate in it (even if you don't write or draw, just by reading and commenting and sharing!) to spread the love through our family, Clexakru :) It's also a nice little f you to jflop; instead of mourning Lexa's death, we're going to celebrate her by bringing her back to life again and again in our own worlds. :D <3

The heat in the Woods household was ridiculous. The air conditioning unit broke over the weekend, and it had only taken two days for the heat to seep into the house and stifle its inhabitants with the dry, raging humidity. Lexa didn’t even know how heat could be dry and humid at the same time, but her mouth felt like sandpaper and her clothes clung to her skin, and all she wanted was to bribe Myles to follow her around with a fan. She might just have succumbed to that, if it weren’t for her damn pride.

 

Besides, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t have been feeling this hot anyway. Not after kissing a certain blonde-haired bombshell.

 

She couldn’t believe it. While her heart couldn’t help but to pitter-patter into breathless, happy pounding at the mere memory of Clarke’s lips pressed against hers, part of her was still numb. Did it actually happen, or was it just a dream?

  
The scary thing is, it could have been. It had been two weeks since the end of the year bonfire celebration, and their relationship had been nothing short of…nothing. That was the only word for it. Things went on the next day much as if nothing at all _had_ happened.

 

The day after the party, Lexa woke with a pounding head, a queasy stomach, and perpetually tingling lips. She moped around her house all day with her phone glued ot her hand, unsure how she should approach speaking to Clarke. “Hey, so, we kissed last night” was far too scary, but she didn’t want to pretend it didn’t happen either, so what did she do?

 

In the end, Clarke took the decision out of her hands. She text that she was going out of town on a trip to Polaris Hospital with her mother to get some volunteering in for the summer program she was doing in anticipation for senior year. She seemed cheerful and casual in the message. Lexa had tentatively asked wished her luck, uncertain as to what this meant, wondering if she should say something or wait for Clarke or…

 

But Clarke didn’t say anything. They talked every other day since, sometimes with their usual long phone conversations at the end of the night. She told Lexa three days ago that she would be gone for over almost two months for the program and would return at the end of July. Lexa was disappointed and more nervous than ever, because now—now since they hadn’t discussed the kiss nor was Clarke giving any indication it had even happened, Lexa wasn’t sure if it had happened. She hadn’t been drunk enough to imagine it and she knew Clarke wasn’t drunk enough to forget it, so what was the deal?

 

The realization came to her with a sinking heart. Maybe Clarke _did_ remember it, but she regretted it so much that she didn’t want to?

 

In the end, Lexa decided to let it go for now. Clarke was out of the state for weeks, they still spoke constantly, it wasn’t like anything changed. Nothing except now Lexa wasn’t imagining a fantasy; now she _knew_ what those pink lips felt like on her…

 

Let’s just say she was grateful when her father was out of the house.

 

She piled her thick curls of hair into a heavy bun atop her head, grateful for the air of the fan she plugged in hitting the back of her sweaty neck, and did the only thing you really could do in extreme heat: flop down onto the couch lamenting on her life.

 

“Lexa,” said her father sternly when he walked in adjusting his tie. “You should be dressed and ready. Aren’t going to the church dinner tonight?”

 

“Too hot,” mumbled Lexa, no energy to even roll her head around on her neck to look up at the lights glinting off her father’s bald head.

 

“Exactly,” said her father slowly, as though she were an idiot. He began to tuck his wallet into his pocket as he reached for his keys with his free hand. “So get out of the house. The church has air-conditioning.”

 

That was probably the best selling-point he’d ever given her to attend church. Still, there were other reasons she couldn’t go.

 

“I can’t. I have a skype date with Clarke tonight.”

 

Her father dropped the keys and spluttered. “Your— _what?”_

 

 _Fuck._ Lexa squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw. “I—“

 

“We have had this conversation before, Lexa,” thundered Titus, “The last time you decided to indulge this little phase with the girl you took to your prom. It’s not funny, it’s not witty. It’s sick, and I can’t believe you would drag Clarke into this disgusting game.”

 

“It’s a figure of speech,” Lexa bit out, refusing to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see his expression of revulsion. No matter how much she pretended her father was a joke, it still hurt. It hurt worse than her mother not giving a shit about her, and that was saying something. “It’s not an actual—date. It’s not like that.”

 

“Do her parents know about this?” continued Titus as though he hadn’t heard her. He probably hadn’t. He was good at only listening to himself. “Do you know how repulsed they would be, how embarrassing this is for me as your father? If you think I’m going to allow this, you—“

 

“It’s not like that!” repeated Lexa angrily, finally opening her eyes and sitting up. She swung her legs around and planted her feet on the floor. She gripped the couch cushions she was perched on the edge of and glared up at her father, who had finally fallen silent, staring at her with the same anger mirrored in his eyes. “It’s a platonic meeting! 'Skype date' is just a figure of speech, all it means is that we have plans to talk via skype. Clarke is my _friend_ ,” she emphasized, ignoring how hard her heart was beating, because Clarke did not feel like she was just her friend and she couldn’t get the taste of her lips out of her head, “That’s it. Honestly.”

 

Titus was silent. Their stare-down lasted for almost a full minute before he finally nodded. Lexa struggled to remain still and breathe steadily as droplets of sweat trickled down her back. She watched quietly as her father bent down to retrieve his keys before striding to the door.

 

He pulled it open and paused. “I’ll probably see you in the morning. The people to work on the air conditioning should be here early.”

 

Lexa nodded and Titus left, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

She let out the breath she’d been holding, finally loosening her the edges of the cushions she’d been clutching.

 

She didn’t have long to collect herself; she’d barely wiped the sweat clean off her face before the alarm on her phone went off and she was scrambling to open her laptop and set up Skype. She’d been online for hardly a second when the familiar melodic ringing rent the stillness of her house; she answered it and smiled in response to the wide grin and blonde hair filling her screen.

 

“Lex! Hey!”

 

“Hey,” breathed Lexa, a smile breaking out onto her face. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach at the sight of Clarke and that beautiful smile that she missed seeing in person. She picked up her laptop and moved back against the couch again to get comfortable. Clarke’s brows knit together and she leaned in to the camera, squinting slightly.

 

“Have you been working out?”

 

A corner of Lexa’s lips tugged up into a crooked grin. “Why, am I ripped?” She balanced her laptop on her knees so she could bring her arms up and flex, laughing when Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

“You look sweaty.”

 

“Oh.” Lexa ducked her head slightly, turning her head, hands coming up to tuck a few flyaway curls, damp with sweat, up off her neck to tuck into the rest of her hair. “Yeah. It’s been miserable, I’ve literally been just in my sports bra most of the day and still dying. Our AC still isn’t working. I thought I told you that on the phone yesterday?” She picked up the laptop so she could lean back into the couch again. Clarke didn’t say anything; she was just staring at her. For a moment Lexa feared the connection had frozen. “Clarke?”

 

Clarke jolted, shaking her head slightly as though she’d been dazed. “What?”

 

“Are you okay?” said Lexa, amused at the way Clarke blinked. “Long day?”

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Clarke let out a sigh, running a hand through her own blonde curls. “Yeah, it was a nightmare. Just really busy. There were four codes alone before lunch. It was horrible. There weren’t enough nurses and doctors and I’m there just feeling useless because I can’t exactly do anything.”

 

Lexa grimaced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. Did they all make it?”

 

Clarke shook her head, shoulders sagging. “Three didn’t. Only one made it, and he was the oldest one, so that tells you how that went…”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Lexa somberly. “I wish I was there.”

 

“What could you have done?” said Clarke, frowning slightly.

 

“Taken you out for some ice cream afterwards,” shrugged Lexa. “Distracted you with a movie or funny cat videos. Or my winning personality,” she added seriously with such a stoic face that it did what it was meant to: Clarke started giggling.

 

“I know you only like taking me out for ice cream so you can be a freak and dip your fries in it.”

 

Lexa nodded, not even bothering to deny it. She usually ate quite healthy, but French fries had always been her weakness, while ice cream was Clarke’s.

 

“So, besides sweating your ass off, what else did you do today?”

 

“Nothing really. Lincoln stopped by with his girlfriend.” She wrinkled her nose and made a face that caused Clarke to laugh again.

 

“What’s she like?” she asked, interested.

 

Lexa lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “Nice enough, I suppose. A little boring, I thought. Didn’t say much.”

 

“What’s her name again?”

 

“Luna.”

 

“Hmm. Well, knowing Lincoln they’ll probably break up in a couple weeks.”

 

“Probably,” agreed Lexa.

 

Clarke’s eyes narrowed slightly again as she watched Lexa wipe sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “What’s your dad been doing today? It’s not really fair that he’s bald, I bet he doesn’t get as overheated,” she said teasingly.

 

Lexa’s face darkened slightly at the mention of him. Clarke noticed. “Oh no. What happened now?” When Lexa didn’t answer, hesitating because how awkward, Clarke added, “It’s nothing to do with your mom, is it?”

 

“No, no,” said Lexa, shaking her head, “It’s just…it’s nothing. Just him being moody like usual.”

 

Clarke seemed to know there was more to it, but she let it go, which Lexa was grateful for. Clarke was tactful and always seemed to know what she needed.

 

“Well, I have a solution that may cheer you up.” When Lexa lifted her brows in expectation, she grinned. “I signed up for Amazon Prime. Wanna watch Shaun the Sheep?”

 

Lexa echoed her grin, and as Clarke chattered on as she went about setting up the movie, Lexa couldn’t help but to wonder whether times like this made it easier or more difficult to remember what happened between them at the bonfire, and the fact that they never discussed it. She supposed that, at the end of the day, she was just grateful to have Clarke in her life, in whatever capacity.


	11. The One with French Fries and Blue Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Clexaweek was so great :D We literally had over a hundred new fics in ONE WEEK. Not to mention all the incredible art and moodboards and fanvids, etc. I wish I could have posted more than just one new fic, but I'm happy I at least got something up for it. Thank you to everyone who took part <3

Clarke returned and things weren’t as terrifyingly awkward as Lexa expected them to be. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. They had always been great at refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The elephant in this scenario, of course, being the fact that they kissed. They kissed. Lexa still couldn’t believe it, and perhaps would have thought it something she dreamed up, if it weren’t for the strange electric tension between them that had definitely intensified since the kiss.

 

It felt safer when they weren’t alone together, as much as Lexa hated that. It did provide some small measure of relief, at least. They were currently at the lake with their other friends, and Lexa was trying not to show how absolutely _aware_ she was of Clarke. 

 

“What are they even doing?” Clarke narrowed her eyes against the sun, lifting a hand to her forehead for shade as she squinted out at Connor and Sterling roaring with laughter in the paddleboat they stood in, rocking it.

           

“Being children,” said Fox absentmindedly. She was focused more intently on smoothing out the red-polished bubbles that had formed on Clarke’s toenails.

 

Roma’s voice came out muffled from where she lay stretched out on her stomach on the towel next to Clarke’s. “Opposed to the despondent man-child wallowing next to us.”

 

Clarke didn’t tear her gaze away from Connor and Sterling and Fox’s focus didn’t waver from her task of painting Clarke’s toenails. Lexa glanced over at the towel spread out a few feet from she and Emori’s farther up along the shore. Miller was looking as sullen as ever, his brows drawn together in a severe line as he concentrated on the magazine he was idly flicking through. A thought struck Lexa’s mind then, and a snigger escaped her lips before she could stop it.

 

“What?” said Clarke, finally shifting her regard from where Sterling and Connor had tipped over the boat and fell into the water. Like usual, Lexa had to fight to resist the urge to squirm under her azure gaze.

 

Lexa shook her head, suppressing her smile, but then Roma nudged her ankle with her elbow so she would get on with it. “I was just thinking of the porno magazines Monroe found in his room in the fifth grade.”

 

“Is he reading one now?!” asked Clarke enthusiastically, her head whipping toward where Miller lay.

 

“No!” Lexa lifted her hands away from Clarke so she could grip Clarke’s knee and tug her back around. “No. I was just imagining how funny it’d be if he was hiding one inside that magazine he’s reading.”

 

“Oh. Ha.” Clarke smirked, glancing Miller’s way again before she arched a brow at Lexa. “You know, I’ve never even seen a porno magazine before.”

Roma snorted and rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m serious!” said Clarke, eyes wide.

 

“Everyone’s sees porn at some point,” said Roma disdainfully.

 

“I’ve seen porn,” said Clarke, and a weird lump seemed to form in Lexa’s throat; she turned her head to busy herself with her book again, hoping no one noticed her blush, “I mean, I haven’t watched it myself, but Finn showed me it once. I thought it was stupid.”

 

“Porn is stupid,” said Fox absently. “It’s unrealistic and fake. I hate the overdramatic moans and unrealistic dialogue.”

 

“Jesus, Fox,” chuckled Roma while the rest of them smirked. “Have you like, studied it or something?”

 

Fox went pink and said something, but Lexa was distracted by the hand tugging on her wrist. She turned and found herself hardly an inch away from earnest blue eyes.

 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

 

Lexa swallowed. Alone time with Clarke was dangerous.

 

Of course she said yes.

 

***

 

 

“What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

 

She was sitting in their favorite red booth at the local café, The Dropship. Clarke sat across from her, and Lexa had finally accepted her heart would probably never stop swelling in Clarke’s presence.

 

This question, though. It almost made Lexa think that Clarke _knew._

           

“French fries,” Lexa answered easily, dipping one into Clarke's vanilla ice cream and popping it into her mouth for good measure.

           

Clarke arched a brow, her lips curved slightly in amusement. She tilted her head into her hand almost thoughtfully as she sucked on the end of her straw, watching Lexa with a shrewd expression on her face. Lexa deliberately held her gaze as she ate a few more fries, hoping her expression looked bored and vaguely uninterested and that it didn’t at all reflect the way her heart was beating a little too fast in her chest, and the difficulty she was having in breathing normally. Don’t get her wrong, she _loved_ French fries, especially the ones at The Dropship. But they definitely weren’t her favorite thing in the world.

           

You’re _my favorite thing in the world. Well, you aren’t a thing. But you’re the best thing about the world. You’re the smartest person I know, like ridiculously, stupid smart. A fucking genius, almost too smart for your own good, even though you’re such a dork at the same time. You’re going to make the best doctor. You have the biggest heart, the best laugh. The most gorgeous smile, and these unbelievable, amazing eyes that look like magic…_

           

“French fries?” repeated Clarke, skepticism layering every syllable.

           

Lexa nodded quickly, evading her gaze by peering intently at the particularly twisty spiral of fry she plucked out of the basket. “Yeah,” she said lightly, looking back up at her. Clarke didn’t look even remotely as though she believed her answer, and panic pulsated within Lexa, but she just smiled. “French fries,” she said again, biting down the next words. _And blue eyes._


	12. The One with the Poolside Glint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those still awaiting an update on my Clexa hp au, don't worry, it's coming- eventually. (just like Clexa ;P)

"You know, I have to say, I'm so glad I dumped Finn."

Lexa looked over across the pool. Clarke was floating leisurely at the water's surface, the sunlight glinting off her oversized sunglasses. Lexa tried not to let her eyes wander from Clarke’s face to her bikini-clad body shining with glistening droplets of water.

"Me too,” muttered Lexa before she took a deep breath and sank below the surface of the water. Clarke narrowed her eyes, watching her wavering underwater form glide toward her before she sucked in a deep breath and sank below the water’s surface, abandoning floating. Lexa came up moments later right beneath Clarke.

She could hear her squeal gargled through the water as she pulled her under. When they both came up for air, she was spluttering and Lexa was cracking up.

 

"Ha, ha, very funny." Clarke seized the sunglasses that were currently sinking toward the bottom of the pool, and set them on the side. Then she turned toward Lexa, a mischievous light in her blue eyes that told Lexa she was about to exact her revenge.

 

"No, no, no," said Lexa quickly, laughing as she swam back. "You deserved that!"

 

"Why, exactly?" asked Clarke as she advanced, her smile as wicked as the glint in her eyes.

 

"That was my revenge for you never listening to me about Finn." Lexa grinned at Clarke’s surprised expression and the way the words made her halt in her wade forward. "I told you he was a dick."

 

"Yeah, yeah, you told me." Clarke rolled her eyes, her smile returning. "And I'm sure you'll rub it in my face all weekend."

 

"Oh, I definitely will. He was such an asshole," said Lexa savagely. Still, she couldn’t help to be happy…Clarke had been with him for so long, and every day she had to listen to his stupid lame jokes and watch him kiss her with his stupid gaping mouth and his stupid over-enthusiastic tongue.

 

Clarke had officially broken up with him in the first week of August, just before their senior year began. It had been, admittedly, rather difficult for Lexa to show up at Clarke’s house upon hearing the news with the standard tub of ice cream and promise of a Netflix marathon while maintaining a somber air, when really all she wanted to do was jump in the air and shout in jubilation.

As it turned out, she hadn’t even needed to keep serious anyway. Clarke certainly wasn’t heartbroken. She’d pulled Lexa into her bedroom and cuddled up to her while they watched Chopped and laughed at one another shouting instructions. They fell asleep in the same twin bed, Lexa drifting to slumber after her heart calmed down at the proximity to Clarke and the fact that she remembered all too well what those soft lips so close to her felt like on her own…

 

"I can't stand him."

 

Clarke was watching Lexa curiously, as though she could hear the passionate remarks she was making in her head. "Why do you hate him so much?"

 

"I don't _hate_ him...I just strongly dislike him." Lexa lifted her legs, using her arms to keep her afloat as she continued, "He's just completely immature. Every five seconds making those stupid 'women belong in the kitchen' jokes, or the 'make me a sandwich' stuff in front of all his buddies to make himself look like a hardass." Lexa’s lips twisted. "Ironic, since the minute you walked in the room, he'd turn into a pathetic moron instead."

 

At Clarke's confused expression, as though she wasn't sure whether Lexa had just insulted her or given her a compliment, Lexa added, "When he kissed you. Seriously, he ate your face."

 

"Oh." Clarke laughed then. "He pretty much did eat my face. He didn't know what he was doing."

 

"Exactly," agreed Lexa whole-heartedly. "He shoved his tongue down your throat. He kissed like an eleven year old."

 

Clarke grinned. "Hey, I don't know about you but when I was eleven, I kissed with _finesse_."

 

"Yeah right," chuckled Lexa. "When you were eleven, if I remember correctly, you were busy kissing your stuffed animals."

 

"I will have you know that Cheeto was an expert kisser who taught me many tricks," she laughed, splashing water at me.

 

Lexa splashed back at her. "He was a cheetah, and I think he was a little too fast for you."

 

"Okay first of all, that was lame. Secondly, Cheeto was a she, actually."

 

"A she?" said Lexa, ceasing the splashing in her surprise. As a result, the well-aimed shove of water Clarke pushed at her hit her right in the face. "Shit." She rubbed her fists into her burning eyes, which didn't exactly help.

 

"Here," said Clarke, crossing the space between them and leaning over her. She handed her a towel. "And yes, a she. And _she_ was a good little inanimate kisser."

 

Lexa started to scrub her eyes, cursing when it only made them burn worse. Clarke clucked her tongue, snatched the towel from her grip, folded it and dabbed gently at Lexa’s eyes.

 

"You obviously haven't been kissed well if that’s the case.”

 

Clarke stopped dabbing, and Lexa slowly blinked with trepidation. When the burning sensation didn't occur, she blinked until they felt pretty much normal. "Thanks."

 

"Don't act like you've had any better, because I know you took to kissing that stuffed gorilla you had once or twice." She smirked tauntingly.

 

Lexa blushed despite herself. "Jesus. You remember that?"

 

"Yep, and I always will. After all, how can I forget walking in your room..." She lifted her arms like that of a ballerina and began to spin in swerving circles, slow in the water. "…and seeing you dancing around, giggling like an idiot French-kissing Pauna?"

 

"God," groaned Lexa, wincing at the memory. "You and your freakishly accurate memory.”

 

Clarke shrugged as she said, "It's a curse and a blessing."

 

"Either way, stuffed animals aside, I've definitely had better kisses than you." Lexa raised her eyebrows defiantly when Clarke raised hers challengingly. "Oh, I have, Clarke, and you know it."

 

"I beg to differ," she said, upturning her nose in a playfully snobby manner that reminded Lexa of her when they were children. "Sure you’ve kissed a lot of people, but they weren't much to brag about."

 

 _Except you,_ she thought, but that was something they would never speak of. "No, no. I have kissed a few people, and most of them were definitely brag-worthy. You have kissed not so many people, and none of them were anything to brag about.”

 

“Quality over quantity,” Clarke countered. Lexa arched a brow at the term, fighting to keep back her smile. "I've kissed Finn Collins, Dax Walker, Nathan Miller, Sterling Woold, Connor Ortega, and Atom Smith. Dax was terrible, Atom and Finn were okay, Miller and Sterling were pretty good, and so was Nate, despite the fact that he definitely wasn't into kissing girls..."

 

"So you've kissed like two people who didn't completely suck. I still win.”

 

Clarke shrugged, and her casual smugness sent sparks of irritation—or perhaps frustration—through Lexa. "Mine still beats yours."

 

"I’ve kissed way better than you have," said Lexa indignantly. "The best kiss you've ever had was probably from Cheeto."

 

Clarke angled her head and said, "She wasn't my best kiss, actually."

 

"Then who was?" demanded Lexa.

 

Clarke leaned forward, a smile playing on her face. Lexa’s heart skipped a beat at her sudden proximity. "None of your business, nosy.”

 

"Probably Finn.” Lexa sniffed derisively, hoping it would strike a nerve, but Clarke only smiled at her.

 

"Maybe," she said evasively.

 

"Ugh!" Frustrated, Lexa clapped her hands on the water's surface, splashing them both.

Clarke began to laugh, and Lexa couldn't help but to join in despite her obvious exasperation. "You have to be kidding me! He seriously couldn't even kiss you right!"

 

Clarke grew quiet, her laughter subsiding as a mischievously thoughtful expression appeared on her face instead. “And just how do you kiss someone right? What does that even mean?”

 

“It just—I don’t know, you just do it!” spluttered Lexa, aggravated. “A good kiss should—“ She thought of the bonfire, of how the entire universe had seemed rendered into two. “It should turn the world upside down. It should mess with you, like every part of you inside and out, it should change your life.”

 

Clarke had just listened quietly, though there was something in her eyes that unnerved Lexa. She didn’t know what it was. Finally, Clarke said, “And you’ve had a kiss like that?”

 

Lexa stared at her, and decided to be honest. “Yes,” she said firmly, watching Clarke carefully; she swallowed, her heart thudding, when Clarke’s eyes dropped to her lips, just briefly, before darting up to her eyes again.

 

She didn’t know what she expected to happen next, but it hadn’t been for Clarke to crack another joke. Maybe she should have expected that.

 

“This wasn’t with the stuffed gorilla, right?”

 

It was so ridiculous, and Lexa felt so light-headed and dizzy with being in such close proximity with Clarke and talking about all of this, that she laughed. “No, it wasn’t.”

 

Clarke bit her lip, smiling in response to Lexa, and then said, "So, why don’t you show me?"

 

Lexa’s laughter froze and remained etched, ghost-like, on her face. When she spoke, a nervous chuckle was easily detectable in her voice. "Uh, what?"

 

Clarke licked her lips and it drew Lexa’s gaze. Her heart was thrumming in her chest. Clarke swept her arms out and began to drift towards her in the pool. Lexa hastily backed away, which was tragically slowly considering they were in water. "Show me what the right way to kiss me is."

 

"Er...how would I know?" Lexa was stalling, obviously. But she didn't know how to react to this. At first she thought it was a joke, but by the calm smile on Clarke's face, she didn't think so. If it were, she would have that mischievous glint in bright blue eyes. Her eyes were serious, and a darker blue than usual.

 

Clarke advanced on her until Lexa’s back was against the pool wall. "Well, you wouldn't," she said, clearly intent on both teasing and continuing the ruse of pretending they hadn't kissed only months ago.

 

Lexa narrowed her eyes. "You haven’t had a good kiss. But don't feel bad; again, you haven't kissed nearly as many people as I have."

 

"And again, quality over quantity," said Clarke with a lofty smirk.

 

“Cheeto must be a good quality cheetah,” said Lexa, frustrated. Desperation had crept into her tone. If Clarke could only just acknowledge that it happened… _Just mention it, I’m sick of feeling crazy, like I imagined it happening._

 

Clarke’s gaze darkened. Good. Maybe she would be annoyed into backing off.

 

But Clarke only laughed at her words. "Look, we can just call this our little experiment. I can experiment by seeing what it's like to kiss a girl, and you can experiment by seeing what if feels like to kiss someone who can actually kiss well."

 

It had loosened Lexa up like she’d wanted it to. She laughed, aware that while she'd said that as a joke to make her feel better, there was a truth to it. Lexa chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating.

 

Clarke was right in her face. She was so close Lexa could see the drops of water clinging to her long lashes. She was so beautiful it made her heart hurt, and all day watching her in that blue bikini had made her so...

 

She really wanted her. And that was the problem. She wanted her so badly, and she knew exactly how this kiss would end. Just like the first one; they would never mention it again. Because that was Clarke's style.

 

 _I don’t want to pretend this never happened_ , she thought anxiously. She wanted to be able to do it again whenever she wanted, actually. Wanted to make Clarke smile and laugh in entirely different ways. But she knew that was way too much to ask of her. Clarke’s parents would be furious if they found out about this, some of their friends may be disgusted, her own father would probably disown her, and above all, Clarke didn't look at her that way. It could completely ruin their friendship.

 

Their first kiss, they had been drunk. And now, if they kissed again, it would be for the sake of proving a point. Clarke could probably mock Lexa afterwards, claiming now she definitely knows she hasn't had a good kiss or something like that. Honestly, doing this would be far more trouble than it was worth, right?

 

Yet…this was Clarke. Kissing her was worth being mocked. If it was anything like their first kiss, than it was worth much more. Heat rippled through her, electricity that seemed palpable enough to render the pool sparking and dangerous.

 

Lexa tilted her head, her gaze shifting from Clarke's blue eyes to her pink lips. She would never be able to explain what Clarke did to her heart, how fast she made it beat and how hard. Tentatively, Lexa nodded. As if she had to decide whether she wanted to kiss her. Her choice was obvious, and it always would be.

 

"Make it good," teased Clarke, but there was no smile on her face. Her eyes had grown even darker and were fixated on her mouth. Lexa realized that her eyes had not darkened a second ago out of anger. Her heart raced frantically as Clarke angled her head, tipping it up to bring her face close.

 

Lexa’s nerves were on fire, her heart beating a wild tattoo against her chest, and all she could think was _Clarke, Clarke, Clarke._

 

"Just remember you asked for this," said Lexa softly, and Clarke’s head jerked back, but Lexa only moved hers forward, closing the space between them and pressing their mouths together.

 

///

 

"Just remember you asked for this," whispered Lexa.

 

Clarke jerked back in response, shocked. Shocked that Lexa would do that, that she would put all the blame on Clarke, as though she didn't want to kiss her. Then horror dawned on her; what if Lexa _didn't_ want to? Clarke had thought that this was a clever idea, using the excuse of a playful experiment to do again what she’s wanted to do each day for the past week. It had been tearing at her every moment, clawing at her heart; she was desperate to taste her again.

 

So when Lexa moved her head forward and kissed her, she was relieved to say the least.

She was ecstatic, utterly weak-kneed with the overwhelming relief at finally having those soft, plump lips pressed against hers.

 

Clarke couldn't stop the noise that caught in her throat like a purr, couldn't stop herself from parting her lips and brushing her tongue along the seam of Lexa’s lips, already so breathless and impatient for entrance. Lexa granted it, and Clarke shivered as she dipped her tongue in Lexa’s mouth, sweeping it against hers and tasting that incredibly sharp, smooth taste that was all Lexa Woods.

 

Clarke’s arms seem to lift of their own accord, slipping her hands into the wild, wet tangles of Lexa’s hair. At first—right now—it was sweet, and mostly innocent. Their lips moved in a slow, blissful rhythm, perfectly in tune, and perfectly matched. It was as though their bodies knew exactly how to act together. When her tongue traced the outline of Clarke’s bottom lip, Clarke’s lips closed over it, sucking gently before releasing it. And when Lexa’s cupped hand slid from Clarke’s cheek to her neck and then dropped, Clarke caught it and placed it on her waist. Clarke’s eyes drifted open when Lexa kissed the tip of her nose. It was a sweet gesture, an intimate one, and should have sent her scrambling out of the pool.

 

Really, what was she _doing?_ What were _they_ doing? Clarke should have learned from the first kiss, from the moment when she sat next to Lexa in the sand feeling so desperate to be close to her. She knew what would happen; she knew that they would end up kissing. She should have learned this last summer when she tried to convince herself that her feelings for her best friend were strictly platonic. She should have learned when she watched her walk out of the bathroom earlier wearing that red bikini and she felt every nerve in her body become alive. She should have known when Lexa asked if she wanted to go to the party and Clarke declined and suggested they spend time together at Lexa’s house instead, and go swimming.

 

Clarke shouldn't be kissing her. She knew that. But in this moment, with Lexa’s hands on her skin and Lexa’s kiss searing through her, she really didn't care.

 

 

///

 

 

Though their kiss initially began slow and soft, it had already progressed into something more potent. Lexa could swear the taste of Clarke’s tongue made her high.

 

The pool water sloshed as Clarke pressed her back fully against the wall. The jolt broke their kiss, but Clarke only moved her lips to Lexa’s neck, kissed her greedily as Lexa’s hands flexed open, her fingers splaying, fingertips digging into the small of Clarke’s back. Clarke gripped her hair harder, drawing a sharp inhale as she pulled Lexa closer. Inadvertently, Clarek’s thigh pressed into the apex between Lexa’s legs, and Lexa gasped.

 

Clarke’s next move sent a jolt of shock rippling through Lexa, stilling her movements. Lexa wasn’t exactly sure why—maybe it was because after their first kiss, Clarke had been eager to pretend it was completely forgotten, but Lexa had expected the movement would somehow slap her into reality. That the noise she made, one of obvious pleasure, would smack Clarke right in the face with the fact that what they were doing right now was actually happening. That they were kissing, not softly or sweetly, but with a fervent heat and hunger that was currently blasting Lexa’s insides into a wet, hot, tangled disarray.

Clarke didn't break away from her and stumble back with an expression of regret evident on her face. No, what she did was lift her leg again, and press it even harder into Lexa. They both moaned at the same time.

 

What were they _doing?_

 

There was no room to breathe, let alone think. Every inch of the fronts of their bodies were pressed together, Clarke’s leg was still slotted between Lexa’s and it took a will even Lexa didn’t have not to spread her legs wider to accommodate. Clarke shuddered, dragging her lips away to suck in gasps of air; she pushed her leg forward and up and Lexa’s mind shut off as Clarke’s thigh pressed hard against her center. The ache that seared through her body, so sharp in her core, her lower belly, her chest, had her slipping and dipping lower in the pool so the water came to her neck as her head tipped back to drop against the side. Clarke’s teeth scraped along the line of her jaw and Lexa couldn’t stop the keening noise she was positive she’d never before made in her life from escaping her parted lips. Clarke enthusiastically set to work sucking at Lexa’s throat like she was seeking that noise again, which Lexa couldn’t help but oblige.

 

Clarke continued moving her leg against her and there was something building inside Lexa, something that only vaguely resembled what she’d discovered herself but seemed impossibly stronger. She was lost within it, dizzy and drowning in it, unsure where she ended and Clarke began, but the only thing she knew was that she wanted more of it. More of _Clarke._

 

Lexa sought Clarke’s mouth again, skimming over her face before taking purchase. She had a brief moment to marvel over just how great of a kisser she was before her hands lowered of their own accord, grip squeezing Clarke’s waist, easily lifting her in the water, and lowered her back down to straddle the leg Lexa slotted forward. Clarke’s eyes flew open in surprise, and Lexa stilled at once.

She was scared to speak—scared it would break this spell, that it would bring reality to this and they would remember all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing it.

“Is this okay?” she finally whispered.

 

Clarke’s eyes were a hazy blue and half-lidded. Her hooded gaze slid from Lexa’s lips to her eyes and back down to her lips again. Clarke nodded and moved in to kiss Lexa, grinding down slightly on Lexa’s leg, but Lexa craned her neck to pull away from Clarke’s kiss, groaning.

 

Clarke looked at her, confusion sinking into the blind lust, and Lexa took advantage and gulped down air, her heart whirling wildly in her chest.

 

“I need to hear you say it,” she breathed.

 

Comprehension sank into Clarke’s eyes. She hesitated, and Lexa froze, certain Clarke was about to remember all the reasons why this was wrong—was going to remember her mother and stepfather’s disdain, was going to remember how homophobic Lexa’s own father was, was going to remember that they were supposed to be best _friends_ —but Clarke only leaned forward, and Lexa’s breath was lost all over again as Clarke’s lips brushed against the shell of her ear and she said, “ _Yes,_ Lexa,” and that was all it took.

 

Clarke opened her legs farther, rolling down on Lexa’s thigh; Lexa squeezed her hips, encouraging her to grind again. She kept moving, hot breath puffing against Lexa’s lips as they both drew strangled breaths in. Clarke tried to push her leg forward again, only managing to press a knee against part of Lexa, but pleasure still radiated through Lexa’s entire body, and the hunger in her that had already been simmering exploded into heated, fiery, urgent need.

 

She lifted her hands from Clarke’s hips to cup the back of her neck, bringing her in for another searing kiss before she raked her short nails down Clarke’s back.

 

Air sucked through Clarke’s clenched teeth with a loud hiss. When she opened her eyes, they were a dark blue illuminated with glowing white specks, the reflection of moonlight on the water dancing in them.

 

She moved her leg, grinding her thigh into Lexa while sliding against Lexa’s own thigh, and Lexa had to slap her arms down on the sides of the pool to steady herself, her chest heaving. She didn’t know what she was doing, and she was pretty sure Clarke didn’t know what she was doing, but whatever they were doing, Lexa could barely handle it. She wanted out of this pool, wanted Clarke horizontal beneath her, needed more pressure and weight. She met Clarke’s heated gaze, hoped the question in her eyes was obvious enough.

 

They scrambled to climb out of the pool. Before Lexa could get to her feet, Clarke pounced on top of her, taking away more of her breath as her weight descended on her. They lay on wet concrete, her lips moving against Lexa’s before she even had the time to draw oxygen into her lungs.

 

They both struggled to their feet. It was miraculous that they were hurrying toward the house, staggering and tripping, hands and lips still sliding and pressing desperately.

 

Clarke slammed Lexa against the door, and by this time she was already gasping for breath. But still Lexa groped at her, tugging her close by hands lost in tangles of wet hair. Clarke’s hand fumbled beside her for the door handle, and they nearly tumbled to the ground as the door swung open. Lexa stumbled into the kitchen, whirling around to see Clarke slamming the door shut behind her. She had an instant to see expression, all focus and heat, before Clarke emptied the space between them. Her expression was enough to make Lexa tremble where she stood, chest heaving as she sucked air in when Clarke’s mouth latched onto her neck, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggled not to moan too loudly and scare her off. But how was she supposed to maintain any semblance of normalcy when Clarke looked at her with so much desire, like it was only a matter of time before this bathing suit was clawed off of her—  
 

Lexa couldn't help it when her hands dropped to Clarke’s ass and squeezed. Couldn't help it when she dropped her lips to Clarke’s neck, licked over where her pulse was pounding before sucking it into her mouth. Couldn't help it when she a strangled moan escaped in response to Clarke’s resulting whimper. The noise seemed to fuel Clarke; she urged forward, mouth moving more deliberately than ever as she kissed Lexa again, teeth dragging at her lower lip followed by a soothing tongue, bodies pressing flush together and _oh_ Lexa just remembered a thundering jolt that they were only wearing bathing suits and there was _so much_ warm, soft flesh exposed.

They stumbled, Lexa’s hip ramming into the dining table and knocking the empty glasses and plates off; they shattered on the floor but neither of them paid them any mind as Lexa spun them around, lifting Clarke off her feet, swallowing her gasp as she set her on the hardwood surface. The fingers that immediately threaded through Lexa’s hair tugged her on after her, and she crawled on top of her, lowering herself down on her as lips came together again.

 

Clarke moved her lips from Lexa’s neck to her ear, and gently drifted across her jawline with her teeth, nibbling her way around to the flesh behind her ear. "Lex," she murmured, and her voice was so husky, so full of dark, unspoken promises that Lexa lost her head and didn’t even bother trying to stifle her groan.

 

Their lips and their hands were anywhere and everywhere. Lexa was frantic for her best friend, desperate. Blood was rushing in her veins and her pulse was roaring in her ears. She had no words to describe how she felt, how Clarke was making her feel. All she knew was that she never wanted it to end, never _, ever_ end. She could do this every day for the rest of forever.

 

She licked her way down the column of her throat, biting over sharp collarbones, lathing over a heaving chest. She was moving on instinct and need, canting her hips into Clarke’s, fire igniting with ever press of their bodies. She started to nudge aside her bikini top, thumb brushing a hardened nipple over the fabric, causing Clarke’s back to arch off the table. _Oh, God._ She repeated the movement, holding her breath as she watched Clarke’s reaction again, as the sound of her harsh breathing filled the house. She watched her carefully as she gently pinched, gently tugged—felt the ache curl in her lower belly, between her legs, all the way down to her toes when Clarke gave a low moan that bit off into a strangled whine.

 

Lexa didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she really, _really_ wanted to find out.

But Clarke recovered before she did, and Lexa didn’t even register her movement until it was too late, when Clarke’s hand snuck down between them, her touch dusting over the flat plane of Lexa’s quivering stomach, trailing lower, lower… _lower._ Lexa stilled over her, mouth falling open in surprise. Was she really going to…?

 _Oh God. Oh God._ She was. Delicate pressure hit _right_ where she needed it. _Oh fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out when Clarke moved her hand, pressing her fingers down, applying a firm pressure and moving in a slow circle. Lexa spared a desperately grateful rush of gratitude that they had decided to go swimming today, hoping that the wetness of her skin and bathing suit would cover up the fact that she was completely wet in an entirely other way for Clarke.

 

Clarke tipped her head back to meet Lexa’s lips when she lowered her head. Tongues swept together and that combined with the sensation of Clarke still moving slow, careful circles over the fabric of her bikini bottoms made her fairly certain she was about to explode. She couldn't believe she went an entire month without the taste of her. She had _needed_ the taste of her.

 

Her gut felt as though an iron palm composed purely of desire was pressing it in. She wanted her so much. Her own hands drifted down, her wrist rubbing against Clarke's as her fingers trailed Clarke’s stomach, just reaching her bikini bottom and beginning to slip under it when Clarke abruptly sat up and flipped them over so she was straddling her. Her remaining air whoosh out of her lungs as she looked up at her. She was so beautiful, and God, she looked insanely hot, her skin shining, her hair cascading down her shoulders in wild volumes of golden hair, her lips reddened and swollen from kissing, her blue eyes somehow bright and dark at the same time, her cheeks flushed, and her breasts, God her breasts, just right there in front of her covered by nothing but a thin layer of bikini, and her legs spread apart, her thighs on both sides of Lexa’s waist, and the most sensitive part of her body that Lexa was so eager to touch right _there_ above her lower stomach.

 

Lexa’s hips bucked without any consent from her, and Clarke's eyes went opaque as she pressed harder against her. Her nails scraped against her back as she groped blindly for the string that tied her bikini top around her. The noise Clarke breathed into her ear when she pulled the top loose and untied it was one of fervent appreciation.

 

Lexa reached under the now loose top, felt her insides pound and electrify as she massaged her breasts, rolling pebbled buds across her palms. She had thought it would be weird for Clarke, seeing as how this was the first time another girl was touching her breasts, let alone the fact that it was her best friend. But she didn’t seem to mind; in fact, judging by the groan she made that was muffled against Lexa’s mouth, she enjoyed it. And all Lexa wanted to do was get her mouth on them too.

 

She hooked a finger in the center of her top to pull it off her as Clarke gripped Lexa’s bikini bottom with two hands at either side of her hips, about to tug it down. Lexa’s heart was hammering a tattoo against her chest, heat had pooled and flooded over between her legs, and she was _so close_ to finally having Clarke the way—

 

And then they both froze when the doorbell sounded, distant and tinny in their ears.

 

///

 

Clarke’s heart dropped to her toes and she went cold all over as terror enveloped her. She leapt off the table in an instant, stricken eyes glued to Lexa. Lexa’s expression was similar to one a deer would have caught in headlights as a car came barreling toward it. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, paralyzed with horror. The strings of Clarke’s bikini top were swinging near her lower back and she had her hands clutching her top to chest. The movements of the strings seemed to jolt Lexa back into action; she scrambled off the table, hastened to Clarke and quickly began to tie the bikini back on. The doorbell rang again, and numbness washed over Clarke. What if it was Titus? What if he had rang the doorbell while they were outside and went around the back to see if they were swimming just as they burst into the house and he saw them through the window? What if he saw what they were _doing_ —what they were about to do?

 

They scurried to the door and peered out of the peephole; Clarke’s heart dropped with a nauseating lurch. Titus stood outside the door, expression as utterly inscrutable as ever.

 

"It's my dad," whispered Lexa, her voice hollow with shock as she turned to face Clarke. They had no idea why he had chosen to ring the doorbell.

 

Clarke could see frustration and anguish in Lexa’s eyes, and an apology in the grimace she gave her. Clarke lifted her arms and cupped the back of Lexa’s neck with one hand, using the other to slip into her hair and gently pull her close. Clarke wasn't stupid. She knew this would end the same way their first kiss did: never mentioning it again. So she was going to have one last kiss, even if her dad was standing on the other side of the door.

 

Lexa whimpered quietly against her lips before she parted her own, softly traced across Clarke’s bottom lip. When she rolled that tongue against hers, lust slammed into Clarke again, dizzying, intoxicating. Terrifying. Titus was right outside the door and Clarke was two seconds from pushing Lexa back against it to kiss her harder. What was wrong with her?

 

Clarke pulled back, gently unattached from her while carefully avoiding her eyes. She took a clean robe from the couch and tossed it to her, and she slipped it on. "I'll go out the back door," she mouthed. Lexa nodded.

 

Clarke’s heart was heavy as she quietly went out the back, taking her clothes from the side of the pool where she’d left them as she went. She walked home in her bikini with one of Lexa’s towels draped over her shoulders.

 

She couldn't believe what just happened. _Again,_ she thought numbly. She and Lexa had kissed _again..._

 

Had done _way_ more than kiss, she marveled. What did this mean? Did it change anything?

  
Terror coursed through her. What if Titus had saw them? What if Titus had seen and was going to call her own parents and tell them?

 

"Wow," said Abby teasingly as she opened the front door and took in the sight of her. "Who died?"

 

"Very funny," snapped Clarke as she stalked past her and headed up the stairs.

 

"It was only a joke,” she sighed, closing the door after her.

 

Clarke ignored her and went to her room, locking the door behind her. 

Her body was still buzzing, her heart still pounding. There was an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. There were two overwhelming emotions warring within her right now; she wasn’t sure which would win out. Part of her wanted to take a freezing cold shower, wash away her idiocy because she could have just ruined everything. Part of her wanted to take a long, hot bath, and revisit her most recent memories…slip a hand between her own legs and pretend it was Lexa’s…

Well. Everyone needed a good bath every now and then, right?


	13. The One Where Shit Goes Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments, kudos and bookmarks! You guys are amazing as always :)

Her father hadn’t seen everything, as it turned out.

 

But he had seen enough.

 

“Listen to me, Lexa. I am saying this because I care. I have your best interests in mind. Okay?”

 

Lexa swallowed. She was frozen in place where she sat stiff-backed on the edge of the couch cushion, clutching a towel around her shoulders. Her skin was still damp from the pool. She was still uncomfortably sticky between her legs from earlier, and her lips still tingled, but—she could not move. There was terror lodged in her throat.

 

“What you’re going through right now…it’s a phase.”

 

A phase. Can phases last for most of her life so far?

 

“ You’re still so young, your body is going through changes…”

 

She had just turned eighteen last month. Clarke had taken her out to see a movie. They spent the majority of it muffling giggles behind their hands and shoving popcorn into one another’s mouths. Lexa had kissed Clarke’s cheek at the end of it and made her blush, but not as much as Lexa blushed when Clarke told her thank you for being the best friend in the world.

 

“I know you—you may _think_ you are feeling things…you may _be_ feeling things, certain things, but—but they are not things that are appropriate for you to feel…”

 

Lexa didn’t think she’d ever seen her father so uncomfortable, and that’s saying something because ‘uncomfortable’ seems to be one of his defining personality traits. The top of his bald head was shining with sweat.

 

“I just don’t want you to risk your—you have a lot going for you right now. A scholarship to Polis University, for one. You don’t want to risk that by…by turning into the wrong sort of person.”

 

Polis University. Right. Lexa still wasn’t even certain she wanted to go there. Clarke had applied there too, and she wanted to make sure they could go together. They had discussed at length being roommates. Clarke had applied for other schools too—Arkadia University, for example. Which was hours and hours away. But Clarke said she probably wasn’t going there…she wanted to go where Lexa was.

 

“…and you don’t want to risk either of our reputations in the church….”

 

Church. Lexa hated church. Maybe she hated her father, too.

 

“…And Lexa, what would your mother say?”

 

Lexa surged to her feet before she could even make the conscious decision to do so. Now she was shivering out of anger rather than cold and fear. Titus blinked and leaned back, surprised.

 

Her mother, who had left her in the dust. Her mother, who never even bothered having Lexa meet her half-sibling. Her mother, who could care less about her. How dare her father even suggest otherwise?

 

“I’m getting in the shower,” she said though clenched teeth. “I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this with you. You’re wrong, for one. About all of this. I don’t care what you or—or your stupid book—“ Her father’s eyes widened and lips parted in shook when Lexa gesticulated carelessly toward the bible resting on her father’s knee. “say about it. It’s not a sin. What I feel for Clarke—I love her.” She paused, tasting the satisfaction of the words, while her father merely gaped at her. It was the first time she’d said it out loud, and God, it felt so good. So right. “I’m _in love_ with her, and I have been for as long as I can remember. Nothing you say can change that, can change me.”

 

“That’s—it’s not you, Lexa,” her father spluttered. “This isn’t who you are. You’re confused and lost and I can help put you back on the path of—“

 

“Of what?” snapped Lexa. “Has living by that book done you any good? Your wife left you. Your only kid is gay. You have no hair. Life sucks, right Dad?”

 

At that she stalked off, heading upstairs to take a scalding hot, angry shower. She knew this wasn’t the last word. She was certain the minute she stepped out of her room, her father would be right there waiting to preach to her. But Clarke was her happy thought. Everything would be okay.

 

 

Little did Lexa know, downstairs Titus was still in the same position she’d left him in, silent and stunned. Slowly, as the sound of running water filled the house, he jolted, returning to himself, and did the only thing he could think of doing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the Griffins.

 

///

 

 

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God._

 

Each horrorstruck thought was punctuated by the steady drip, drip, drip of her shower-wet hair hitting the hardwood floor. Clarke stood outside the kitchen, frozen in place clutching her towel around her. She could hear her mother on the phone. Her mother was talking to Titus. About Lexa. And her. And what they had been doing.

 

_Oh my God._

 

She felt sick.

 

Abby was just expressing shock, initially dismissing whatever Titus was saying and then cautiously questioning him. Clarke’s heart was thumping in her ears. When her mother finished the call, Clarke jolted back into life. She scrambled upstairs and dressed herself, shaking with dread. When she heard the telltale squeak of the stairs, she literally felt as though she were about to throw up.

 

“Clarke?” Her mother’s voice was as gentle as her knock on the door. She entered the room without waiting for a reply. From where she sat on the bed, Clarke looked up, took one look at her mother, and burst into tears.

 

Of course, things dissolved after that. Her mother rushed in and ushered Clarke in her arms. She asked her several questions. Asked her if Lexa had pressured Clarke into doing something she didn’t want to do (Clarke cried hard enough the _no, of course not_ was barely distinguishable, but the force behind her exclaim was easily understood). Asked her if she thought she was gay (Clarke’s heart lodged in her throat because _how does she know?_ She thinks boys are hot, she thinks girls are hot, what did that mean? You could only be gay or straight, so what did this make her? She didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her). Told her this was probably just a phase, that she was probably confused, but Abby was here and she loved her and Clarke cried into her shoulder. The easiest question, though? _What exactly is it you feel for Lexa?_

 

“She’s—she’s my favorite person in the world,” Clarke hiccupped. “She’s my best friend, I love her more than anything. And—and I love so many things about her. I love how much she cares. She misses her grandma Becca and every year on the anniversary of her death, I still hide little gifts for Lexa and give her a treasure map like her grandma used to. She cries every time we watch Fox and the Hound, and the Lion King, and Up. I watch her read her books the same way I watch movies, it’s so—it’s fascinating and entertaining and so cute. She makes all these facial expressions and laughs and cries and her face kind of like contorts to mimic the expressions of whatever’s going on in the book, like especially if characters are fighting or arguing. She gets a whipped cream mustache every time she drinks hot chocolate. And she’s so _beautiful_ ,” breathed Clarke. She blinked, coming back to herself when she realized her mother was staring at her with a frown, appearing troubled. “What?”

 

“Well…” Her mother hesitated. “I just…it’s a little disturbing, is all. You and Lexa have been inseparable since you were young children, Clarke. By all accounts, you should consider one another as cousins, or sisters. You shouldn’t…it’s just not normal.”

 

Clarke tried to swallow, but it felt as though there was something sticky and sharp stuck in her throat, choking her. “Well. I think…that that’s bullshit.”

 

“Clarke!” said her mother in a scandalized tone, torn between shock and outrage.

 

“It is,” said Clarke, clenching her jaw. She let the anger grow; it felt better than the panic, the fear. “I don’t understand it either, but what I feel for Lexa isn’t _disturbing._ She makes me happy and she makes me a better person.”

 

“That may be, but the other things, the—the _kissing_ , whatever physical—“ her mother began spluttering, and kept spluttering, and Clarke just wished she was back with Lexa right now.

 

It finally ended an hour later, with her mother’s well-intentioned pleading for Clarke not to lose herself in a phase falling on deaf ears because, God, all Clarke _wanted_ to do was lose herself in Lexa. She didn’t have the faintest clue what she was doing, what all these huge feelings she had for Lexa meant, but she wanted to find out. Now she couldn’t even text her, because Abby had grounded her for “being inappropriate at Titus’s house” and took her phone for a month. A fucking _month._

 

As Clarke lay in bed, tears still flowing freely, all of her mother’s words just continued echoing in her head. Inappropriate. God. If she thought kissing Lexa in the pool was inappropriate, she should have been there a few weeks ago, when Clarke and Lexa went home from a party and Lexa was far drunker than she ever had been…

 

 _"Okay, I'm going to be honest." Lexa giggled, stumbling. She tripped over her own feet, fell into Clarke and seized the front of her hoodie to keep from falling down. Clarke looked into her glassy green eyes with amusement. They were heading out from Harper’s house, where half the kids were still chugging red solo cups, but Lexa had had enough and Clarke wanted to get her home. But Lexa kept looking at her lips and Clarke’s heart was beating fast and maybe this party wasn’t the smartest idea. "Clarke, I really want you," said Lexa, her voice husky and low._ _  
_

_Clarke’s knees nearly buckled with the force of the deep pull that tugged low in her belly. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry and her lips tingling. How many times had she dreamt of Lexa saying such a thing to her?_ _But Lexa’s eyes were bright and glazed, smelling strongly of alcohol. Clarke didn't want her to say it to her this way, even despite how much easier it would make it.  
            _

_Clarke said her name as gently as she nudged her away, but Lexa only shuffled back to her._ _  
_

_"No Clarke, I mean I really, really want you. Like, I want to fuck you." Clarke’s air left her lungs with an audible whoosh. "And I want you to fuck me," she added, leaning forward to breathe in Clarke’s ear, "Hard."_ _  
_

_Clarke’s jaw literally went slack. Clarke’s heart began to throb in time with another part of her body and her mind was in a frenzied, crazed state, torn between lust and rationality. So many nights she had been kept awake by dreaming of this reality. More than anything, she just wanted to seize a sober Lexa, slam her against the wall, slid her hand down her shorts, listen to her panting her name—_ _  
_

_Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, failing miserably at evading the particular road her thoughts were traveling down. Lexa tripped in her drunken state, stumbling and falling into Clarke. She lost her breath again as they fell back against Clarke’s car, Clarke’s back pressed against the door._ _  
_

_"Can I touch you?" Lexa's hand slipped beneath the bottom hem of Clarke’s shirt. Her muscles bunched under Lexa’s fingertips hovered over the waistband of her shorts. She slid the pad of her thumb along the soft flat of Clarke’s stomach as her tongue curved over her top lip, and Clarke felt every inch of her insides melt in anticipation of that tongue replacing that thumb._ _  
_

_"Oh God," she breathed before she could stop myself._ _  
_

_"I'll make you say that. I can make you say that." Lexa pushed her shirt, fumbling with her eagerness up as she moved her hand higher. Clarke’s head was spinning. Lexa’s fingers brushed the skin beneath the bottom of her bra and she suppressed the tremble that tried to quake through her body._ _  
_

_“Lex,” began Clarke in a reasonable tone, shaking her head as she started to nudge her farther back. "You're so drunk. I don't want—"_ _  
_

_"You're so drunk, baby," she retorted, slurring the words. Clarke frowned at her, hoping Lexa saw her disapproval rather than the lust that was curling inside every crevice of her. That was the second time she had ever called her baby. Was it pathetic that it turned her on to no end?_ _  
_

_"Um, no. I'm not drunk at all. In fact, the most I've drank tonight is a glass of apple juice. So, good one. Not." Despite being shaky with lust and irritation, she slid her arm around Lexa's slender waist gently, and moved slowly so she could keep up as she opened the door._ _  
_

_"That was a good one. Actually." Lexa gave a huff of breath when Clarke spilled her into the backseat of her car. She locked the doors before she could fumble for the handle, then manually unlocked the drivers' door so she could get in._

_"Oh, oh! We could have sex back here!"_ _  
_

_She jumped at Lexa's sudden declaration, dropping her keys on the floorboard. "No," she said, annoyed. She bent down and fished under her chair for the keys, finding them just as Lexa said, "Well, can you ride my face back here at least?"_ _  
_

_Clarke dropped the keys again, her face growing hot with a furious blush. The mental images were too much to bear. Shocked and hopelessly turned on, she twisted around in her seat to face her. Lexa was half lying, half sitting in her seat, the resulting position being her slumped over against the door. She aimed a big, languid smile at Clarke._ _  
_

_"What did you just say?" said Clarke in disbelief._ _  
_

_"Can you at least ride my face back here?" she repeated. When Clarke didn't respond, Lexa sat up straighter, leaned forward to clap a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. "Oh, you know, Clarke...like, just climb back here and I'll show you."_ _  
_

_As tempted as Clarke was by that offer, she forced herself to say calmly and delicately, "How about you just explain it to me, Lexa?"_ _  
_

_"Okay, okay. Just take your shorts off...just your shorts. I can take the panties off." She gave Clarke a sloppy wink. "We'll get those off and then I'll lay down and you crawl up onto me and straddle my head and put yourself on my mouth..." Lexa closed her eyes as though the image in her mind was so blissful that she had to. Her tongue curved over her lip again. Fuck. "Then you ride my tongue."_ _  
_

_The swallow Clarke made was audible. Lexa gazed at her, her eyes bright with liquor and obvious desire. Clarke wondered if her desire was just as evident._

_“How—have you done something like that before?” croaked Clarke, entirely unpleasant images of Lexa and Costia springing forth. Lexa told her all they had done was fool around a couple times, so if Lexa had lied to her and actually—_

_“Nope,” said Lexa, popping the p. “I’ve watched porn. And just for the record, porn sucks. Especially lesbian porn because it’s totally clearly made for straight dudes to watch. But anyways, yeah, I’ve watched porn. Plus, you know, I have got an imagination.”_

_Clarke spluttered with laughter now. Lexa was going to be so embarrassed when she was sober, she realized. This needed to stop, she needed to get Lexa home and in bed. “Okay, Lexa. I’m going to take you home now.”_

_“You can’t!” said Lexa in alarm, eyes comically wide as she lurched forward in the seat as though to crawl out the car window. “My dad will kill me if he knows I got drunk!”_

_“To my home,” said Clarke in amusement. “Aden had a game, so they’ll all be home late. We should be asleep by the time they get home.”_

_Lexa sighed in relief. “Okay, good. Thanks, Clarke. You’re the best. You’re my best friend, did you know that?”_

_Clarke blushed and couldn’t suppress her smile, glancing at Lexa’s sweet smile in the rearview mirror as she drove. “You’re the best too, Lexa. And my best friend. Always.”_

_“Always,” echoed Lexa, wobbly smile growing._

 

And they always would be, Clarke firmly told herself, even as her heart seemed to wobble in her chest as her mother’s words nagged at her.

 

She fell asleep with the taste of Lexa still lingering on her lips.

 

///

 

The next day, Clarke worried her bottom lip as she pulled her car into Lexa’s driveway. She was supposed to pick her up today…which meant Titus slipping out of the house and making a beeline for Clarke’s car would not bode well.

 

It was ten times worse than her mother.

 

“Clarke,” he greeted without so much as a smile. “I wondered if I might have a word.” Without waiting for a reply, he opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Clarke stared, heart beating rapidly, and wondered where the hell Lexa was. “Lexa left early,” he said simply; Clarke blushed. She must be easy to read.

 

It was an intensely uncomfortable talk. Talk may be the wrong word, because Clarke barely got a word in. More like she just sat there clenching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles shone white, an uneasiness churning in her belly. It wasn’t because Titus said so much more than her mother had regarding the whole “it’s just a phase” thing. It wasn’t because of how mortifying it was to know Titus had caught her kissing his daughter, had seen it with his own two eyes, and was now questioning her on every moment she’d been with Lexa before that, demanding to know if previous sleepovers were simply sleepovers or whether or not they were committing even more damning sins. It was what Titus chose to say last.

 

That Lexa was the best student, with a perfect GPA and a full ride scholarship, and Clarke was a mediocre student who planned to have a subpar, unsteady job as an artist. That a fine-arts degree was nothing in comparison with a law degree. That Lexa would one day meet a fine man who was her equal, and Clarke was nothing but a distraction, a hindrance, a _weakness._

 

And part of Clarke knew that this was mean, and not true because…because Lexa loved that Clarke loved art, she was the one who encouraged her!

 

But then again…

 

“Lexa could have asked you to prom,” said Titus conversationally. “But she asked that Costia, Clarke. Not you. And she knew she was confused then, and in time she’ll realize she’s confused now. You’ve confused her with this phase of yours, but with time away from you, she’ll be fine.”

 

Lexa had never said she had more than friendly feelings for her, but…those kisses…those lingering looks…

 

Maybe Clarke was overthinking it. Maybe she’d only seen what she wanted to see. After all, Lexa never actually talked about what happened. Maybe they really were ungodly urges that they kept surrendering to…

 

“Tell me, do you believe in Heaven, Clarke?” asked Titus.

 

She swallowed, brief images flashing across her mind. Feet buried in the mud at the lake shore, giggling as she and Lexa made mud castles. Limbs tangled with Lexa’s as they watched movies in bed during sleepovers. Sticky syrup hands feeding one another pancakes during breakfast. The feeling of Lexa’s lips, sweet and soft, fingertips digging into Clarke’s hips as they swayed and clutched one another closer.

 

“Yes,” said Clarke faintly.

 

His warnings echoed in her chest. If you want to get there someday, repent. Repent and strive to be better, to avoid being a reprobate sinner, and above all…if you can’t do that…don’t drag Lexa down with you.

 

Clarke was a terrible friend.

 

“Stay away from her, Clarke,” said Titus slowly, watching Clarke intently, face as impassive as ever. “If you care about her at all, you’ll leave her alone, never talk to her again. You’re young, on the cusp of your adult lives…and you should know how it feels for something not to work out, Clarke. My own marriage didn’t work out. Lexa lost her mother’s presence. And you…you lost your father.” Clarke stared without really seeing, eyes unfocused and glazed over, tears dripping from the tip of her nose. Titus spoke as casually as if they merely were discussing a grocery list. “Just let her be. Let her be successful, live a full life without being weighed down by someone who will never be good enough for her.”

 

Seeming to feel as though he’s adequately made his point, Titus goes to exit the car. Before he can shut the door, Clarke finds her voice, hoarse and eerily devoid of emotion.

 

“What if she doesn’t want me to leave her alone?”

 

Titus stood in the gravel, considering her for a moment, holding the door open. “I can find a job elsewhere. It would be a shame if Lexa had to finish her senior year at a new school.”

 

The door shut, leaving Clarke alone in her silent car. Her knuckles were still white and trembling.

 

///                   

   
_Months Later_

 

 

 

Lexa was graduating high school in less than an hour.

 

She currently stood in a tunnel beneath countless stands in a cold auditorium. She was slightly bored as she leaned against the cool stonewall, watching the others around her. The school had decided to line them up alphabetically by first name, so Sterling Woold stood a few people behind her. She watched as he nervously adjusted his graduation cap. A few people before Lexa, Atom Smith was sliding his tassel between his thumb and forefinger to rid it of any tangles. Lexa personally couldn't care less. She just couldn't wait to get out of this hellhole. She was going to Polis University after this. She was going to make something of herself. Use cross-country to get her through school. Make a career in law, working her ass off on behalf of LGBT youth to make sure they never had fathers who pretty much made their life hell just because of their sexuality. Lexa was so over it, and the memories here that seemed to haunt her. In Polis University, she could just make new memories. No friends, she didn't need any. They're only unnecessary distractions. No relationships, either. Just a million one-night stands, with girls ten times hotter than Clarke Griffin.

 

Damn it. She wasn't supposed to think of her like that. She always forgot.

 

It was like she was the punctuation mark hanging on at the end of her every sentence. Even when Lexa’s trail of thought was nowhere near her, somehow she always ended up thinking about her. It didn't even make sense, honestly. In fact, it was a little crazy.

At the thought of her, Lexa unconsciously leaned a little to the left, discreetly, so she could peek a few people past Monty. Clarke was there. Lexa could only see the back of her, the golden tresses beneath her graduation cap and then her long, red graduation gown. Lexa felt an ache in her heart and belly, a long, slow dragging one, just looking at her. It was graduation. The words had more meaning in her mind now, looking at Clarke. They were about to graduate. This was when Clarke was supposed to turn around, grin at Lexa while she gave the thumbs up, and after the ceremony they were supposed to take funny pictures together, and throw their caps in the air together, and afterwards it was her Lexa was supposed to go to Grounders with, and then after that Clarke was supposed to come stay at her house and spend the night and they’d stay up all night talking and laughing and watching movies together.

Of course, it was the fact that she had wanted to stay up all night _not_ watching movies with her that had been the factor that took all of those possibilities away from Lexa in the first place.

 

 _No, don't even think like that,_ she told herself furiously, tearing her eyes off Clarke and leaning back against the wall again. Her eyes stung, but she only glared upward at the ceiling. Don't think like that. It was not entirely Lexa’s fault. Clarke may think it was, but it wasn't. Clarke would not have done the things she did with Lexa, acted the way she did, if she hadn't felt anything for her. Right? She had to have felt something for her.

Most of the time Lexa regretted it. After all, she cared a great deal about Clarke (she told herself over and over like a mantra that she wasn’t in love with her, chanted it to herself every day as though it would make it true. All it did was make it to where she couldn’t bear to think it), and being able to be in her life in any capacity was all Lexa ever wanted. She stroked her fingertips over the satin sleeve of her graduation gown as she thought wistfully of the days when she and Clarke were inseparable. She smiled as she thought of the old golden days of their friendship. Long nights of staying up too late watching movies, talking about the most random topics ranging from how cute celebrities were to whether or not the stars were age-old planets that humankind used to reside in before being forced to relocate to a more habitable world. They had been inseparable up until that stupid day in the pool, and Lexa’s father saw them kissing. The next day, Clarke wouldn’t answer her calls or texts. When school started again, Clarke wasn’t waiting at Lexa’s locker for her, wasn’t saving a table for her at lunch, and made every excuse in the book to basically run away when Lexa tracked her down to try to talk to her. Her father rarely let her leave when she was home, instead resolutely insisting Lexa stay home to work on schoolwork or read or “spend time with him because she’d be leaving the nest soon,” but on the rare occasions when she was able to sneak out of her window and hurry to Clarke’s house, Clarke wouldn’t open her window or answer the door. When Abby or Kane answered, they just shot Lexa apologetic grimaces and told her Clarke was busy.

 

Lexa took the hint. Clearly Clarke wanted nothing to do with her.

 

And that was why most of the time Lexa regretted what transpired between them, but…a part of her would never regret it, because if she hadn't acted on her feelings, she never would have kissed her. She never would have touched her. And even if Clarke never talked to her again, even if the rest of her life was dark and miserable and gloomy, Lexa would carry that with her forever. The feel of their lips touching. The taste of her. How soft and warm her skin was against Lexa’s. How when Lexa was holding her against her body, everything in the world made sense. Even if the rest of Lexa’s life was meaningless, that one brief period of time gave her entire existence meaning. She supposed that would have to be good enough. If Clarke didn’t want her in her life anymore, so be it. Lexa would survive. She always did.

 

(and every night she trembled and lay in bed with a lump in her throat and tears stinging her eyes, because no matter how much she told herself it was, it _wasn’t_ good enough, and she _did_ regret it, more than anything. Clarke was her everything and she just wanted her best friend back).

 

The graduation music started. Lexa pushed off the wall and stood straight, smoothing her robe when the first pair of kids left the tunnel.

 

In a matter of seconds it was Lexa’s turn. Unlike many of the other kids who had walked before her, she did not loop her arm with the random boy she’d been paired with.

 

As they exited the tunnel, cheers from a specific section of the stands met them. Lexa’s heart jumped, lodging in her throat, because this it was only supposed to be her father here as far as she knew so there shouldn’t be such cheering—had her mother surprised her? She searched for where the cheering was coming from as they walked down the long aisle toward their chairs. When she pinpointed where the cheers were coming from, she saw that they all had the same ginger curly hair as the boy beside her. His family. Oh.

 

She heard a foghorn blare out and, wincing, saw that her cousin Lincoln was waving one in the air as he cheered for her. Then she realized that he, Indra, and Titus stood right next to Abby, Kane, Reese and Aden. Aden and Reese were clutching a huge poster of Clarke’s smiling face.

 

Lexa swallowed hard in an attempt to bypass the lump that had formed in her throat. She finally reached the aisle their seats were on; when they split, he headed toward the right side for his seat and Lexa headed for hers on the left. She crossed her legs and waited impatiently for the rest of the class to walk out and reach their own seats. Atom sat almost directly behind her. A few rows ahead of her, Lexa could catch a glimpse of Clarke.

 

Soon the school administrators began to speak, and then the teachers. A few kids gave speeches, including Harper. They were mostly all the same, about what their future holds and how they would remember their cherished times here at Polis High School, yada yada yada. Soon enough Mrs. Green began to call their names one by one, and one by one they all walked across that stage to get their diplomas.

 

The celebration, throwing their caps and hugging one another afterwards, was even more bittersweet. Lexa met with her family in the midst of the chaos and was immediately drawn into a tight bearhug from Lincoln, who congratulated her with a broad grin before seizing her cap off her head and throwing it high in the air.

 

"Linc!" Laughing, Lexa broke away from his embrace to chase after her cap. When she plucked it up off the ground, another hand picked up the hat that had fallen next to hers. Lexa knew that hand.

 

She looked at Clarke as she slowly straightened. God, Lexa forgot how beautiful she was, and she was even more exquisite even more so up close. The swoop of her stomach turned into an unpleasant lurch when she realized those blue eyes were rimmed red, as though Clarke had been crying today. They held one another’s gaze for a moment, the deafening chaos around them falling silent and slow. Clarke’s throat dipped as she swallowed, licked her lips. Lexa was lost for words. This was Clarke, her best friend since they were children. Senior year was supposed to be _their_ year, the best year, and instead it was the worst year of Lexa’s life. Yet it was somehow easier to manage thinking Clarke wasn’t missing her, that she was happy. Now, looking at Clarke’s red eyes and the way her lower lip trembled…Lexa’s eyes stung. _No, no, no_. She couldn’t do this. But before she say anything, Clarke blinked rapidly as though to dispel her own tears, and without a word she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

 

_That can’t be it._

 

Lexa moved on instinct, calling out Clarke’s name. She shoved her way through the throngs of people, ignoring the indignant cries of those she pushed through, and tore after the streak of blonde weaving through the crowd. Clarke had reached her family. Lexa caught the snatches of conversation, Clarke saying she needed air and her Abby asking what was wrong, but Clarke was rushing off before she could answer. Lexa called her name again in desperation, but Clarke was running off again. Lexa flew after her, ignoring Aden and Reese’s excited crows of her name and Kane’s pleased “Lexa!” and Abby’s equally concerned, “Lexa?”

 

She burst through the hallway doors Clarke had escaped through and caught up with her in the bathroom she’d sought refuge in. The minute Clarke saw her, her eyes went wide again and she made for the door. “Clarke, wait! _Please!”_

 

It worked. Clarke finally stopped, visibly panting and trembling where she stood.

Lexa approached her as cautiously as one approaches a cornered, wounded animal. “Please. Just—wait.”

 

“Leave me alone Lexa,” said Clarke breathlessly, back still facing Lexa. She started to walk away. “Just go.”

 

“Clarke, please talk to me,” Lexa pleaded. She had finally broken down, had finally resorted to begging. It was pathetic how nauseatingly vulnerable she felt. Her heart shuddered with each word that spilled out of her mouth, with each step Clarke took toward the exit. “I’m sorry, okay?” That made Clarke stop again. “I’m so sorry. I hate this, I hate—I hate what I did, I hate who I am—I didn’t want—I never wanted this to happen. I’m so sorry. I’m—“

           

“Lexa.” Clarke said her name in a low, strained voice. She halted in her tracks directly in front of the door, frozen, her hand hovering over the handle. Her head was bowed. Lexa wished she could see her expression, because she was certain Clarke was about to walk out, and then who knew how they would ever recover from something like this. Surely they wouldn’t, surely Lexa would actually _die_ from this, her heart splintering and the blood in her veins like heavy, molten lead, and her fingertips cold as though the temperature in the room had just dropped twenty degrees despite the fact that she was actually sweating. But Clarke didn’t lower her hand to the door handle; instead, it dropped to hang limply at her side. Lexa stared at it for a minute; at the way her fingers distinctly trembled. Clarke turned around. Lexa saw a mix of hard emotions blazing like blue fire in her eyes.

           

Lexa’s own eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise when Clarke marched across the room, closing the distance between them. Her hands were no longer trembling as they gripped Lexa’s hips and pushed her back with startling strength, very nearly slamming her against a shelf. Clarke’s gaze was fixated on Lexa’s lips a moment before she crushed her own onto them.

           

Lexa may have made a noise, a whimper or a muffled moan. Any embarrassment she would have felt was immediately dispelled by the warmth spreading through her body, by the inconceivably potent swoop her stomach made when one coherent thought finally managed to force its way to the forefront of her frenzied mind: _Clarke was kissing her._

           

Lexa responded at once, lifting her hands to bury them in the blonde tresses. Clarke’s tongue slid with demand against Lexa’s lips and Lexa parted them without preamble. Clarke’s lips were soft and warm, and the sweet taste of her tongue was so inviting Lexa felt herself shudder, though perhaps that was the relief coursing through her. Clarke didn’t leave. She walked back. She kissed Lexa. There was _hope_.

 

And all too soon, Clarke was pulling back. She was trembling as much as Lexa’s heart was.

 

“Lex, we—we can’t do this.” She whimpered when Lexa leaned forward, exhaled, rested their foreheads together.

 

“Do what?” murmured Lexa. Clarke’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward, fit their mouths together again. Their hands were buried in one another’s hair; Lexa moved hers to Clarke’s face, cupped it as their lips moved, but then she remembered herself. Remembered they’d spent the last several months not talking, remembered she’d fallen asleep almost every night on a pillow wet from tears.

 

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, pulling back, squeezing her eyes shut, resting foreheads together again. “Wait. You’re right.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re right,” repeated Lexa, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want to do this.”

 

The loss of the warmth of contact was immediate. One moment they were standing flush together, the next Clarke was feet away, head tilted and brow furrowed as she gazed intently at Lexa. The panic was clear in her eyes and Lexa knew what it meant, so she hastened to correct it.

 

“No, I—I don’t mean that I don’t want to do this.” She breathed out, shaking her head before scrubbing her hands over her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked almost as exhausted as she felt. “We need to talk.”

 

Clarke made a noise that sounded vaguely like a strangled snort. “I think we’re long overdue for a talk.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Lexa.

 

“But…our families are waiting on us.”

 

“Yeah,” said Lexa again, mouth dry as she swallowed. “But you’re the only family I care about right now.”

 

Clarke’s breath hitched and she stared at her.

 

“I just want to know you again,” confessed Lexa. “I…I miss you. So much.”

 

“I miss you too,” whispered Clarke.

 

“Can we be friends again?”

 

Clarke’s swallow was audible. She was avoiding Lexa’s eyes, and Lexa felt sick again. “I…God.” She took a breath and looked to the ceiling, eyes shining. “I would like that too, okay? But I don’t know if we can be.”

 

It felt like a blow to the chest. “Why?”

 

“Because _this_ keeps happening,” she gestures wildly to the space between them. “I…we’re both girls…”

 

“So?

 

 _“So?”_ said Clarke incredulously. “Lexa, your dad’s a pastor! You know how people feel about this—”

 

“I know how I feel about you.”

 

That gave Clarke pause, her mouth hanging open. She shut it with a snap. Her face had a lovely pink glow, and Lexa’s heart ached just looking at her. Part of her wanted Clarke to ask what she meant. The other part of her wanted to flee the bathroom before she could face potential rejection.

 

“I’m sorry,” said Clarke after a moment of tense silence. “I’m sorry, Lexa. I’m sorry.”

 

She moved to the door and Lexa lurched forward, hand closing around her wrist. “Wait! You say we can’t be friends. I say you never know until you try.”

 

“We’ve tried since we were kids, Lexa.”

 

“Please. That’s exactly my point. You want to give up years of friendship because you don’t have enough faith in us not to…”

 

“Sin?” said Clarke, a strange look passing over her face. Something like revulsion and resentment. Something that had her looking exhausted and as though she were going to cry.

 

Lexa bit her tongue because she knew better than anyone how futile it was to argue against religious qualms. Clarke had never even been text-book Christian, so Lexa didn’t understand why she suddenly sounded like her father. But she knew one thing: this was her one chance to attempt to salvage things between them, because after this Clarke went to Arkadia and Lexa remained in Polis and how were they supposed to fix things when they were hours apart?

 

“We can start slow. Just—text me. Or send me an email,” added Lexa desperately. “We can be like—like pen pals. We’ll start over.” She stuck a hand out, feeling extremely foolish, but she was trying. “My name’s Lexa Woods. I love French fries and cross country and reading and acoustic covers of my favorite songs.”

 

Clarke swallowed, glancing between Lexa’s hand and her eyes and—her lips? This could be harder than she thought.

 

But then Clarke gripped her hand, shaking it, and Lexa tried not to shiver at the feeling of palm kissing palm. “Clarke Griffin. I love art, ice cream, chess, parties, and I—I want to be an artist one day.”

 

“I want to be your friend,” blurted Lexa.

 

The shadow of a teasing smile flickered across Clarke’s lips. “Little desperate, don’t you think?”

 

“Shut up, I’m trying,” grumbled Lexa, lips tugging up despite herself. She and Clarke were still clutching hands. They smiled, actually smiled, at one another for a moment. Lexa fought not to let her gaze dip down to pink lips stretched over white teeth.

 

“I’ll text you,” whispered Clarke.

 

Lexa’s heart thudded in her chest. “You promise?”

 

Clarke lifted a pinky from their joined hands, echoing it with an arched brow. Lexa let out a steady breath in relief and hooked her pinky around.

 

“I promise.”

 

Then Clarke was yanking her forward into a tight hug, desperation bleeding into it. They held one another too long, but God, it wasn’t long enough, because then Clarke was pulling back, brushing her lips across Lexa’s cheek, and then she was slipping out of the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this is the only really angsty chapter. Next chapter will be pretty M rated too :P  
> And some people will escape small-town ignorance and get educated on some stuff, which is good :)


	14. The One Where They Finally Get it Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa reunite and it feels so good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! An update! A nearly 15,000 word update, at that! An update with new content I just wrote, rather than stuff from years ago!  
> I have a feeling this will be your favorite chapter. I 100% was inspired to write and post this, so much and so fast, because of your comments. You guys are so lovely! I would love to know what you think after this chapter too. Thank you for being great <3

Lexa hated her school.

 

It wasn’t exactly the school itself—truthfully, her classes were okay, as were her professors. But she hated her dorm room with its uncomfortable squeaky twin-sized mattress, and she hated the tiny cubicle shower in their small bathroom, and she absolutely hated the fact that she it wasn’t where Clarke was.

 

She should have anticipated how much of a pain in the ass it would be, honestly. Living in Polis. It meant her dad called her every Sunday urging her to attend the campus church ceremony. It meant he demanded she come home once a week to have an awkward dinner with him, where he either wholly ignored any personal questions regarding how Lexa was feeling while asking again and again how her grades were and if there were any boys she liked yet, or he just lectured her the entire time about how this was her chance to atone for her past mistakes.

 

Clarke, meanwhile, was hours away apparently having the time of her life. She posted new pictures every other day, having a blast with her new friends. She’d been true to her word and texted Lexa, but they were short and far and few in between. It was like they didn’t know how to speak to one another anymore, treading on eggshells and unsure how to proceed with this awkward new dynamic to their relationship. The whole _pretending they never had their tongues down one another’s throat_ angle.

 

Sometimes things fell back to normal. Such as the day they moved into their dorms. Lexa had ignored the last text Clarke sent, too upset at her for just leaving for college and not even bothering to stop by her house to say bye. Clarke had called her that night, rousing her from sleep, and she’d stared at the photo icon of Clarke’s contact for a half beat, her heart hammering, before scrambling to answer it. Clarke had greeted her in hushed tones, voice shaky…had apologized. Had cried.

 

Lexa cried too.

 

She didn’t understand what went wrong between them. She didn’t understand much anything anymore.

 

Still, she kept moving, kept surviving. She was currently curled up in bed with her nose buried in tomorrow’s reading for her first-period class—until the jingle of keys alerted her to her roommate’s return, anyway. Lexa’s heart sank.

 

The light switched off as the girl trudged into the room toting the usual giant bag of science books she was never seen without. “Dorm rules states lights out by midnight, remember,” grunted the girl. Her name was Lorelei, but considering Lexa wasn’t a fan, she just called her by her last name, Tsing.

 

As Tsing fell into bed, Lexa sighed and switched on her phone’s flashlight to continue reading. Usually she would argue, but God. She was tired. The fact that she hadn’t spoken to Clarke in a couple months beyond the odd vague text here and there didn’t help.

 

Speak of the devil. She jolted as her phone buzzed in her hand, nearly dropping it. She quickly slid it open to see a text from Clarke.

 

**Clarke:**

**Are you awake?**

 

She glanced at the clock. 12:04. Arkadia was three hours ahead. Why was Clarke awake at 3am on a Thursday night?

 

**Lexa:**

**Yes. What’s up?**

**_Clarke Griffin is calling._ **

 

“Shit,” Lexa muttered to herself, glancing at Tsing’s form on the bed as she scrambled to get up without dropping her book and notes all over the floor. She hurried out into the hallway and answered the phone. “Hello?”

 

A pause. Then: “Hey.” Followed by a sniffle that immediately had Lexa’s stomach dropping.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked at once. “What’s—has something happened? What’s the matter?”

 

“I’m…” Clarke sighed. “I’m outside your dorm.”

 

“You’re _what?”_

 

“I’m outside your dorm. Can you let me in?”

 

“I…” Lexa turned helplessly around, as though Clarke was going to magically appear. She shook her head at herself and hastened downstairs, hitting end call and shoving her phone into her pocket the moment she spotted Clarke through the window on the door, standing with her arms crossed for warmth, swallowed by the coat she wore, her breath puffing out in a fine mist.

 

No sooner had Lexa swung the door open did Clarke lunge forward, flinging her arms around her neck. Lexa staggered to keep her balance to avoid falling off the step into the mud and snow, wrapping her own arms around Clarke at once in response. _Fuck._ Her heart ached as she buried her face in clouds of blonde hair, breathing her in. Ironic, really, that Clarke had left and Lexa remained here, but it was only now that she felt like she was home.

 

“Fuck,” Clarke managed to say, her teeth chattering as she pulled back to look Lexa in the eyes. There were tears shining in her eyes. She gazed at Lexa for a moment, the ghost of a smile lingering in the curve of her trembling lips.

 

“Hi,” Lexa whispered. She was still stunned Clarke was actually here, too in shock to really formulate coherent thoughts, let alone words.

 

“Hi,” Clarke whispered back. She sniffled, licked her lips. “You, uh. You look taller.”

 

Lexa couldn’t help it; she burst out with laughter. It even tugged a smile out of Clarke. “I look taller? It hasn’t been that long, Clarke.”

 

“Almost three months.”

 

Lexa sobered at once. “Yeah.”

 

“Five, technically. Considering we barely saw each other over summer break.” She was right. A few glimpses and awkward waves at the grocery store. They’d mostly communicated over text, but as aforementioned…it was stilted and uncertain. This was the first time they’d properly seen each other since graduation.

 

Clarke swallowed. “Over a full year, since we…we didn’t really talk last year.”

 

“We didn’t talk at all,” said Lexa quietly. “You—you wouldn’t talk to me.”

 

Clarke’s eyes were brimming over. “I know.”

 

“You never even told me why. You just—you just cut me out.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

Lexa swallowed. “That’s not good enough.”

 

“I know that too.”

 

Lexa stared at her. “So why are you here?”

 

Clarke’s lower lip trembled and Lexa hated the ache that tore up within her at the sight. She sucked in a breath, listening intently to Clarke’s next words. “God, I—I miss you _so much_.”

 

Lexa’s breath caught in her throat. “Me too.”

 

“I can’t—I don’t want to do this.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Try to live without you. I can’t.” The tears rolling down her cheeks sparkled in the light; it looked like the snow behind her. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

 

“Why are you sorry?” Lexa’s brow furrowed. “Why would you want to try to live without me in the first place? Why are you sorry you can’t? Why—“ She paused, noting the way Clarke was shivering nonstop now, and turned to quickly key open the door and tug Clarke inside, into the warmth. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, since they were only in the hallway and students were sleeping.

 

“I—your dad told me to stay away,” Clarke gasped, tears flowing freely now. Lexa’s eyes flashed and narrowed at the words. “He—he told me that I…”

 

“What did my dad say?” said Lexa, voice quiet—deadly. She was trembling too, though not from the cold. The moment Clarke mentioned her dad, rage immediately boiled in her veins.

 

“I’m not a good friend. I’m—you have a scholarship, and you were top in the class, you want to be a lawyer and I’m just—I want to be an artist and who knows if I’m even good enough for that? I’m not good enough. I’ve never been good enough.” Clarke’s voice was rising quickly, a note of hysteria clearly layering it. “My parents don’t think I’m good enough, your dad doesn’t think I’m good enough, you must not think I’m good—“

 

Clarke’s next words were cut off with a gasp when Lexa suddenly moved forward, pushing Clarke back against the door, enveloping her in a tight, desperate hug. Clarke was stiff in her arms, before finally breaking down, falling limp, burying her head in the crook of Lexa’s neck and shoulder and crying it out. Her nose was freezing on Lexa’s neck, her tears dampening her skin.

 

“Don’t _ever_ say that,” said Lexa, intending to growl it but it came out as more of a shaky sigh. “You’ve always been my best friend, even if my dad apparently poisoned you against me. You’re more than good enough. You’re _everything_.”

 

Clarke could do nothing more than shudder with her sobs, clutching the back of Lexa’s shirt as though her life depended on it. The door opened when a student came in late; Lexa shielded Clarke best she could, but the minute the student passed them, she began ushering Clarke up the stairs toward her dorm room on the second floor. Tsing would probably attempt to flay them alive if they woke her, but she would feel more comfortable in there than standing out in the hallway.

 

Clarke was silent save for a few quiet snuffles, watching as Lexa moved to her dresser and picked out some clothes. If Clarke had luggage, she’d left it in her car, and they weren’t going back out there again. Clarke looked dead on her feet anyway, exhausted from emotion on top of the journey. Lexa grabbed the first t-shirt and shorts she could find before leading Clarke into their tiny dorm bathroom. She unzipped Clarke’s winter coat and untucked Clarke’s scarf from the neck of her coat, the backs of her fingers brushing Clarke’s cold cheeks, and blushed, only just realizing their proximity and how intimate the act of peeling off the layers of clothing off someone could be.

 

“My bathroom sucks,” she muttered, more for something to distract herself than anything.

 

Clarke looked around. “We have communal bathrooms at Arkadia.”

 

Lexa wrinkled her nose. “Okay, that’s worse.”

 

“Our dorm rooms are bigger, though,” said Clarke absently, eyes fixed on Lexa’s hands as she worked on unbuttoning her blouse, revealing the undershirt beneath. “Nicer, I think. I don’t know, it’s dark.”

 

“Probably nicer,” Lexa conceded, “Our dorms are ancient. I hate it here,” she admitted. She leaned forward to whisper, “My roommate has a stick up her ass.”

 

It did what she hoped it would; Clarke’s lips quirked.

 

“Here.” Lexa handed her the spare clothes before turning her back to her. She was grateful Clarke merely got changed without comment. She tapped Lexa’s shoulder to let her know she was done and Lexa turned to see Clarke standing there in her overlarge Wonder Woman shirt, not quite as baggy around Clarke’s chest as it was Lexa’s, holding her clothes in her arms. Lexa took them from her and dropped them in her hamper before leading Clarke back into the room.

 

They silently climbed into bed, Lexa indicating for Clarke to take the space against the wall. Lexa turned the alarms off on her phone (she was definitely skipping class tomorrow) before plugging it in and sitting it on her dresser. She took her contacts out at the bathroom sink, and then crawled into bed beside Clarke.

 

They were quiet, awkward, the space between them almost deafening, but then they both reached out at the same time, intertwining their fingers.

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” whispered Lexa.

 

“Me too. I still have so much to tell you,” sighed Clarke sleepily; she looked as though she were barely able to keep her eyes open.

 

“Tomorrow.” Lexa squeezed her hand. “Promise?”

 

Clarke hooked their pinkies together and snuggled closer to Lexa, nudging her onto her back so she could throw an arm around her waist and a leg over her knees. “Promise,” she said softly.

 

Lexa’s heart was beating far too fast at the feeling of Clarke against her, of her holding Clarke, of her finally being here. Clarke’s breathing quickly leveled out, and it took Lexa longer to follow, mostly because she was brushing a hand through Clarke’s hair, pressing tender kisses to her forehead. Her gaze lingered on her lips, pink and parted, just a flash of white teeth showing, and the familiar ache rose up within her.

 

Her best friend. She shouldn’t mess it up this time. The last time she’d kissed Clarke, they stopped speaking the rest of the year.

 

She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

 

///

 

Lexa woke the next morning as she usually did on days when she had late classes: way too early, because her inconsiderate roommate wasn’t bothering to keep quiet as she got herself ready for the day.

 

Lexa blinked groggily, opening her eyes to see Tsing sling her messenger bag over her shoulder and brush her hair back from her shoulders before marching over to Lexa’s bed, bending over to say in an annoyingly prim voice, “You know, it’s none of my business, but this is a _Christian_ university.” She shot the sleeping mess of blonde hair beside Lexa a dirty look that immediately filled Lexa with rage. Then she put her nose in the air, making a noise that sounded distinctly like a _hmph_ , and started toward the door.

 

“Hey Tsing,” whispered Lexa, causing the other girl to pause and look at her over her shoulder. “Go fuck yourself, you self-righteous asshole.”

 

Tsing’s expression morphed into one of outrage and she made that same noise again (but louder, angrier) before leaving, slamming the door shut behind her just as Clarke stirred beside Lexa.

 

Lexa looked over, concerned Tsing had woken Clarke up, but to her surprise, Clarke seemed to have already been up. She was snickering.

 

“That was great.”

 

Lexa exhaled, amused. “Told you she has a stick up her ass. Thinks she’s going to be the next Einstein or something.”

 

Clarke snorted, sitting up to yawn and stretch. “She should spend a day with my friend Raven. She’d make her feel like an idiot in about two seconds.”

 

“Raven?” said Lexa curiously. She guessed it was one of the girls Clarke was always taking pictures with.

 

“Yeah. She’s a genius. She’s going to be an astronaut one day.” Clarke sighed and flopped back down beside Lexa.

 

Lexa twisted round to grab her phone off the desk, unplugging it. She resisted the urge to groan when she glimpsed the time. Seven in the morning. God.

 

She went onto Facebook and pulled up the latest photo Clarke had been tagged in, posing with several others. “Which one is she?”

 

Clarke pointed at a girl with beautiful brown skin and a big, shit-eating grin. “That’s Raven. The girl next to her is Octavia, and that’s her brother Bellamy behind her, he can be a dick but usually he’s cool, and his girlfriend Gina is hilarious. Octavia’s a soccer player, she’s a hyper little shit,” said Clarke fondly. “That over there is Niylah, and the girl beside her is Luna, and that’s her boyfriend Derek.”

 

“Wow. You’ve made a lot of new friends.” She wasn’t jealous. Just wistful. Clarke had made an entire new life without her, while all Lexa did was miss her. She’d made new friends herself—one in particular being Anya, but still. Mostly all she did was homework and wish things were different with Clarke.

 

“Have you?”

 

Lexa took her phone back to pull up one of the photos in her gallery. It was of Anya at the local campus library, grinning and holding the campus cat in her arms. “This is Anya, she’s a TA for some of my classes but she kind of took me under her wing. I have dinner with her sometimes. She makes a mean lasagna.”

 

Clarke smiled. “She’s gorgeous. And that cat is adorable too, is it hers?”

 

“It’s the library cat, Moby. He mostly just lays around in the windows.”

 

“That’s funny.”

 

Lexa put her phone down, turning to face Clarke, propping her head up on her hands. She resolutely ignored the flutter in her stomach; Clarke looked stunning, golden hair fanning out behind her head. “So, how are you liking Arkadia?”

 

At that, Clarke launched into a description of her school and all her classes. Unlike Lexa, she genuinely adored her university. She was still enthusiastically explaining her art classes when they finally got up to get dressed and ready. Lexa was braiding her hair back as she turned to ask Clarke another question.

 

“How are your brothers?”

 

“Well, actually…” Clarke smiled, raising her brows and leaning a hip back against the desk. “I have a sister now.”

 

Lexa’s jaw dropped. “ _What?_ Your mom is having another baby?”

 

Clarke chuckled, shaking her head. “No. Reese is transgender.”

 

Lexa goggled. “Oh…wow. I mean, I guess I’m not really that surprised.”

 

“I wasn’t either, after I actually sat down and thought about it. At first I was shocked, but then I was like…duh. She always loved wearing dresses and makeup and when she was little she used to say she was a girl.”

 

“How did Aden, Abby and Kane react?”

 

“Aden didn’t really react at all, of course. He said he always knew, and if Reese feels like a girl then she’s a girl. Kane actually didn’t do much either. He was surprised at first but then just said okay and asked what he could do.” She laughed to herself at the memory. “Like he was already talking about going on Amazon and buying shirts for this year’s Pride.”

 

Lexa’s eyes were wide. “That’s amazing. I can’t believe he was so…”

 

“Cool about it? I know. Mom wasn’t at first. Said it was a phase, said Reese was confused.” She rolled her eyes. “But then, Reese got the shit beat out of her at school.”

 

“Oh my God!”

 

“Yeah, I was livid. Like she doesn’t get enough shit, being blind in one eye.” Clarke’s expression had darkened considerably, but then she blinked and seemed calm again. “The other kid was expelled, so that’s good. But I think it kind of snapped Mom into reality. She was on the computer a lot after that, I think she was doing research, and then she had a talk with Reese…after that she’s been using the correct pronouns and she’s been a lot better.”

 

“That’s so good.” Lexa couldn't help but to wonder how her own father reacted to that news…probably terribly. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything to Reese…

 

Clarke seemed to read her mind; the smile faded abruptly from her face. “Your dad tried talking to my parents. That didn’t go over very well.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“What you’d expect. Tried to act like Reese was a danger to herself, suggested my mom take her to a few different counselors for her obvious mental disorder. Mom told him to go to hell.”

 

“I bet that went over well.”

 

Clarke shrugged, smirking slightly. “They haven’t talked in two months.”

 

Lexa smiled to herself. As she finished her braiding, however, the smile faded again. “Clarke? What…what exactly happened? Between us.” She turned to face her, nerves fluttering in her belly at the apprehension on Clarke’s face. “What did my dad say to you?”

 

“What I said last night.” Clarke tried to sound as though she could care less, but Lexa could hear the faint waver in her voice. “That I’m not good enough and I’d just corrupt you. That I’m…a weakness to you.”

 

Lexa’s brows drew together as she scowled. “That’s bullshit.”

 

“What did he say to you? After…” They both swallowed and avoided one another’s eyes.

 

“That I’m confused and in a phase. Basically that I need to turn back to Christ and read the damn Bible.” Lexa sighed as she plopped down on the foot of her bed. “I told him that book’s done a fat lot of good for him, he has no wife, a gay daughter, and no hair.”

 

That broke the tension. Clarke laughed, so hard it brought tears to her eyes. “You actually said that?”

 

Lexa joined in; it really was pretty funny, when she thought about it. “Yeah. He can be such a dick. He deserved it.” When their laughter tapered into chuckles, Lexa frowned as another question occurred to her. “Wait, so…is that why you cut me out? Because of what dad said? Why didn’t you just _tell_ me? I could have told you how _wrong_ he was and fixed this whole mess before it even began.”

 

“Well, he…also said that if I didn’t leave you alone and never talk to you again, he’d take a job in another town and make you move.”

 

Lexa gaped at her. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“No.” Clarke avoided her eyes, guilt written over all her features. “I wish I’d told you now, but at the time, I was just…I panicked. I was scared and I felt so guilty…” She lifted her gaze then, somber blue eyes meeting Lexa’s. “I’m sorry.” Her lip quivered, eyes filling once more. “I’m so sorry, Lexa. I was so scared I was a terrible friend and then—then I _became_ a terrible friend.”

 

“Clarke,” said Lexa firmly, quickly hopping off the bed to cross the room to her. She stood directly before her and, before she lost her nerve, reached over to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Stop apologizing, okay? You don’t have to keep saying sorry all the time. I get it now. I forgive you. Can we move on now, and be friends again?”

 

Clarke nodded, reaching up to take Lexa’s hands. “I’d love that, Lexa.”

 

Lexa smiled. “Good. Now, come on. You can try my cafeteria’s excuse for breakfast, and then figure out the plan. How long as you staying?”

 

“Well, actually, I have a test tomorrow I really can’t afford to miss,” Clarke grimaced, and Lexa’s face fell. Oh. “But…I was wondering. Maybe you’d like to come back with me and stay the weekend?” Lexa blinked, heart jumping at the way Clarke’s thumb swept across the back of her knuckles. “It’d be an early start on Fall Break. I’d like to show you around my university…plus, I want my friends to meet my favorite person in the world.”

 

Lexa snorted, lips tugging up in a smile despite herself. “Kiss-up.”

 

Clarke’s eyes flickered to Lexa’s lips. _Not quite_. Then she smiled into Lexa’s eyes again. “So what do you say?”

 

Lexa turned to grab her duffle bag out of the closet, unzipping it and setting it down on her bed, ready to pack. “When do we leave?”

 

Clarke’s laughter spread warmth all through her chest.

 

///

 

 

After a shitty breakfast of burnt eggs and stale toast, Lexa showed Clarke around the campus. She introduced her to Anya and was delighted at how well they got along, Anya dishing out sarcastic quips and Clarke giving as good as she got (Anya certainly approved). Lexa turned in the homework for the classes she missed and then they packed up in Clarke’s car, chatting over the radio as they headed out.

 

As it turned out, Clarke’s friends were every bit as great as she said they were. Raven was hilarious, and her dry, mirthful sense of humor reminded Lexa of Anya. Octavia seemed nice, but competitive; she grilled Lexa about her gym routines and how much they ran for cross country at Polis. Bellamy plunged Lexa into a deep conversation about greek mythology due to the history class she mentioned she was taking, and didn’t let up until Clarke dragged Lexa away. Luna was sweet, and her boyfriend Derek was polite though he didn’t speak much. Niylah was also nice and enthusiastic, though Lexa didn’t like the way her eyes seemed to linger on Clarke’s cleavage; she was definitely gay, and attractive, and Lexa didn’t know why she was letting herself feel stupidly jealous when she and Clarke were clearly just friends, especially since Niylah seemed to have some type of thing going on with Luna…a polyamorous relationship, possibly.

 

Lexa joined them at the student union, a place with a small restaurant and a room full of games like pool and ping-pong. Afterwards Clarke took her to the beach, since Arkadia was only a twenty-minute drive from the ocean, and they lounged there, Lexa occasionally joining in the volleyball game with her friends. They stayed there for a few hours before heading back to Clarke’s dorm room (and she was right, it was way better than the Polis ones, though the fact that the bathroom was at the end of the hallway was a pain in the ass). She ended the night curled up with Clarke in her bed, heart beating fast because 1. Raven had shot them a curious look before turning off the light, and 2. Clarke had opted to wear nothing more than a t-shirt and panties. Lexa was only wearing shorts, so the smooth skin of their legs kept brushing together, setting Lexa’s nerves alight, and she couldn’t help but to remember the feeling of their legs sliding together in the pool last year before they kissed and…

 

And she can’t think like that.

 

In the morning, after a breakfast that was much better than Polis’s, Clarke declared she was taking Lexa around the local shops. She seemed a little put out that all her friends had eagerly invited themselves, but in the end they all packed up in two cars and headed out.

 

Clarke dragged Lexa around like a tourist, eager to show her her favorite stores, but the fact that they weren’t alone was a bit of a damper. A couple hours in, Lexa was already tired and ready to go.

 

Lexa dawdled behind Luna and Niylah, who were both cracking up as they tried on as many scarves as they could fit around their necks and then taking pictures of themselves wearing them. While most of the people here had several bags around their arms, Lexa only had two. A generic touristy t-shirt for herself and Anya, and a few keychains for her family. She didn't know what else to get. Looking around the shops, she saw nothing of particular interest that she would want to get Clarke. Everything seemed either too indifferent, or too…much. It was basically either a dinky keychain or a glass seashell with an engraved _"I Heart You"_ on it. She couldn't get either of those…

 

She had kept her eye on Clarke as she wandered around the shops. Occasionally they would chat, but mostly they’d been walking in absent-minded silence. Clarke only had a single bag, and thanks to the fact that Lexa was always glancing at her every five minutes, she knew it held a hat for Kane, a magnet for her mother, and two orca whale plushies with the city name printed in cursive along their white bellies, presumably for Reese and Aden. Although she was still looking at the merchandise, Lexa had a feeling she wasn't going to buy anymore. She'd put her wallet away in her purse, anyway.

 

"Clarke," murmured Lexa, beckoning her over. Lexa stood before a display of glass figurines. When Clarke neared her, she looked over her shoulder at her and asked, "Do you want to buy this?"

 

Clarke looked at the figurine of a pearl in a glass oyster and immediately shook her head, a corner of her lip tugging upward. "Um, no, I don't think—" Lexa flicked the price tag label up to where she could see it, and Clarke cut off, laughing, understanding the joke. It was over a thousand dollars. "Sure. Let me just pull that cash out of my ass."

 

"You'd have to have a really pretty ass to have that much cash jammed up it," Lexa joked, regretting the words the moment they left her lips. But Clarke only arched a brow.

 

"Are you saying I don't have a pretty enough ass?" she challenged.

 

 _Fuck,_ thought Lexa even as she laughed at Clarke’s backhanded question. This was the Clarke she remembered. She never failed to rise to a challenge.

 

"I'm not saying that at all," said Lexa, smirking, but she backed off.

 

"Mmm." Clarke’s eyes were narrowed slightly, and she squinted at Lexa for a moment before moving on. "How much is that one?" she asked, pointing at a silver coral reef figurine.

 

"Five hundred," said Lexa, glancing at the tag. "Go figure."

 

They wandered the next part of the store.

 

"Oh my God, look at how ridiculous this is," said Clarke in a low voice, laughter layering her tone. Lexa’s gaze followed to where she pointed at, and she had to stifle her own laughter. It was an absurdly large clownfish hat. Literally, a clownfish. The opening where you put it on your head was a slit along its belly. Its fins went down to cover your ears.

 

"I dare you to try that on," said Lexa under her breath, and they both had to stifle our sniggers again; they didn't want to offend the owner, who was watching them like a hawk.

 

"I would if he'd…" Clarke's voice trailed off as Bellamy and Gina walked into the store and the owner went to help them shop around instead. "Okay. Give me it."

 

Lexa plucked the hat off the stand it was hung on and plopped it on Clarke's head. She collapsed into a fit of quiet laughter upon seeing her with a huge, dorky fish on her head. "You look insane. I'm so getting a picture of this." Lexa pulled her phone out of her pocket, lifted it to snap a picture of her.

 

"Let me see," she said, reaching for the phone.

 

"Don't delete it," insisted Lexa, handing her it. Clarke laughed, though it sounded more like hissing since she had to keep it at a whisper level.

 

"Oh my God. Why would anyone buy this? How much is it?"

 

Lexa peered at the price tag, which was hooked around the tailfin. "Thirty bucks.”

 

Clarke snorted, loudly enough that the storeowner shot them a dirty look over Gina’s head. She ducked down and Lexa stepped behind a clothing rack, and they both snickered beneath their hands until the owner turned around again to help customers.

 

"Jesus," said Lexa, her shoulders shaking with the effort of suppressing her laughter. "You could fit two heads in there."

 

Clarke laughed again, the hat still flopped over her head. "You could! Come here," she said, lifting the hat up and spreading the slit wider. Lexa stepped close to her, ducking down and then rising up to pull the hat on. Both their heads fit easily, without even touching. They both giggled in whispers, like idiotic schoolgirls, and then Lexa realized just how close they were by the fact that the scent of whatever minty gum Clare was chewing blew right into her face. Their laughter faded as they sobered, and then they were left crouching, their heads jammed into a big fat clownfish hat, and standing closer than they should be.

 

Their noses were less than an inch apart; if Lexa moved forward even slightly, the tips would touch. God, when was the last time Lexa had truly been this close to her face, at this angle, able to observe her every perfect feature? She was so breathtaking. Pretty pink lips, a dusting of pink on her cheeks, luminous blue eyes that seemed to grow a shade darker under Lexa’s gaze. Heat flushed Lexa’s entire body, prickling her skin. She remembered what happened when Clarke's gaze grew darker.

 

Lexa couldn't stop her eyes from darting down to her lips, and couldn't help but notice that Clarke’s did the same to hers before resolutely snapping back onto Lexa’s eyes.

 

Simultaneously, they both lifted the hat off their heads, patted down their hair and cleared their throats. She stepped back, creating some much-needed space between them.

"Well, this is ridiculously overpriced," muttered Clarke as she set the hat back onto its stand.

 

Lexa forced a laugh, hoping Clarke didn't notice how horribly fake it sounded. "You know only a total idiot would buy it."

 

"Definitely," she agreed, as together they made their way out of the store and down the street, heading for the mini clocktower Clarke’s friends were gathered under.

 

They both stiffened, speechless as Jasper neared them, a huge clownfish hat on his head. "Hey guys!" he said cheerily, waving as he swaggered past them.

 

Lexa and Clarke were silent for a full minute as we watched Japser strut down the street, then disappear into a candy shop. Concurrently, she and Clarke both turned to look at one another; when they caught each other's eyes, they collapsed into laughter once more.

 

///

 

They ended the night drinking in Bellamy’s off-campus apartment. It was probably the worst idea, considering Lexa already felt on edge—showering in a communal bathroom where she knew Clarke was totally naked in the stall next door hadn’t exactly done anything to relax her.

 

All Lexa could think was that her, Clarke, and alcohol were never a good mix. But she still took the drink Bellamy mixed up for her, and relished in the burn as she tipped it down her throat.

 

An hour later, she was well on her way to getting drunk, and the months she and Clarke had spent apart seemed to fade away as they giggled and stumbled their way around the living room, bumping into the occasional person until Raven finally announced everyone needed to pick a partner because when the clock struck twelve they were all doing body shots.

 

“Like, we’re body-shot Cinderellas?” slurred Jasper. Monty rolled his eyes and distracted him with a freshly rolled blunt.

 

“Lex, Lex, Lexa, you’re my partner,” said Clarke breathlessly, tugging on Lexa’s arm. Lexa turned to face her; her eyes were bright, her smile wide and breathtaking.

 

Lexa narrowed her eyes, squinting at Clarke in the light pulsating from the television. It dimly occurred to her that Clarke could be like, the model of all models. Her face should be plastered on every billboard in the world. She could be queen of the world.

 

She didn’t realize she was babbling and actually saying the words aloud until Clarke was laughing.

 

“No, seriously,” she insisted, vodka and red bull slopping over the rim of her plastic red cup. “You could queen of everything, Clarke. Like, everyone would bow to you! I would get on my knees for you,” she said seriously, only realizing how the words sounded after they left her mouth and, oh God, that was embarrassing. Totally true, but also embarrassing, and she prayed Clarke didn’t realize.

           

Clarke must have, because her eyes widened a little and she blushed, even though a tiny smirk tugged at her lips. Lexa opened her mouth to rattle off some distraction when Clarke seized a lemon wedge and shoved it into Lexa’s mouth.

           

“Hey,” said Lexa in indignation, her voice coming out muffled around the fruit.

           

“Shush,” she ordered, and Lexa shut up, because she liked how Clarke’s voice sounded when she made demands, plus Clarke was not-so-gently pushing Lexa by her shoulders to lay flat on her back on the table, knocking empty red solo cups off the surface, and simultaneously pulling her shirt up.

           

Lexa’s head was reeling as she laid there, Clarke tugging her shirt up until she left it bunched just beneath Lexa’s breasts. Lexa’s stomach was bare and exposed, and automatically tensed when Clarke lifted the bottle of vodka Raven had handed to her and poured a little puddle of it directly above Lexa’s belly button. She took the salt next, sprinkled it in a line extending up a few inches from the small puddle of vodka. Lexa was slightly impressed, considering the fact that this was, after all, Clarke Griffin, her best friend that had apparently definitely not grown more innocent in her few months in college.

           

The puddle leaked upward slightly once Lexa clenched her stomach, her entire body going taut as Clarke crawled up onto the table with her, swinging a leg over her body and straddling her hips. Lexa lay perfectly still, fearful that if she moved, Clarke would stop what she was doing. That was the last thing she wanted. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and her mouth went dry, her tongue pressed hard against the back of the lemon, like enough pressure there could somehow center her.

           

Clarke reached over, took one of the shot glasses and poured the margarita blend into it. She tipped it back into her mouth, sucking in a breath when the liquid burned her throat, and scooted down Lexa’s body to bend and lap up the vodka on her stomach. Lexa’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she watched Clarke come back up, and take the lemon out of her mouth with her own, lips brushing together.

           

Clarke gasped, squinting and screwing up her face in response to the sourness. She blinked a few times before spitting the lemon out and laughing in response to her friends’ wolf whistles and clapping. Lexa was still blushing furiously as Clarke clumsily clambered off her, pulled her shirt down for her before helping her to her feet.

 

“Very nice, very nice,” praised Raven, before pushing a lit blunt in Clarke’s hands. “Now chill before you have an aneurism.”

 

Lexa was drunk enough she didn’t quite catch the glare Clarke threw at Raven. She just knew she didn’t want her first time getting high to be surrounded by semi-strangers in this crowded place, so she grabbed Clarke’s hand and tugged her into the first bedroom they came across. It was dimly lit with Christmas lights framing the entire small room. The moment they shut the door, the outside chaos was mercifully muffled.

 

“Ahh, so quiet. So nice,” sighed Clarke, perching herself on the edge of the bed and bringing the blunt to her lips. She took a long drag.

 

“Not your first time?” said Lexa.

 

Clarke smiled. “No. I think Raven had me try it in my first week. You haven’t yet?”

 

Lexa shook her head.

 

“We’re a little slow, I guess,” said Clarke quietly, gazing at Lexa through the smoke she exhaled. “Eighteen and we went to college as virgins who have never gotten high.”

 

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Lexa shifted weight on her feet, uncomfortable and aware she was sobering up. How was she supposed to sleep with someone when all she could think about was Clarke?

 

Clarke shook her head, blowing out more smoke. “It’s definitely not.” She arched a brow, lifting the blunt in offering. “Do you want to try it?” she said, before bringing it to her mouth again to take another drag.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Lexa watched those pale pink lips move, parting just slightly to let the smoke billow out in small rings. Clarke grinned at her when she finished, leaning back onto her elbows. “Come here,” she said. So Lexa did.

           

She crawled forward, trembling as their bodies pushed flush together, stomach pressed to stomach, breasts brushing together, hip to hip. Clarke’s lips were cold as they brushed Lexa’s, and Lexa’s heart pounded as she sucked in, inhaling the smoke Clarke gave to her.

           

“Fuck,” Clarke muttered when Lexa pulled back. Her pupils were blown, slivers of hazy blue glinting in the moonlight. She was staring at Lexa’s lips.

           

Lexa was staring at hers.

 

All she wanted to do was kiss her. If she wasn’t so sure it would ruin her, she would. And she knew if she kissed her now, she’d never be able to stop.

 

“Do you get tired of fighting it?” whispered Clarke.

 

“Fighting what?”

 

“You know what.”

 

Lexa swallowed, hating that the pulsing between her legs was as powerful as the pulsing of her heart.

 

“Yeah,” she confessed. “Do you?”

 

Clarke trembled beneath her, desperation vibrating in her body. “God, yes.”

 

Lexa swallowed again, mouth dry. “So…why are we?”

 

Clarke blinked her hazy eyes, looking dazed. “Why are we what?”

 

“Why are we still fighting it, then?”

 

“I don’t know.” Clarke was tearing up again, eyes brimming over. The fingers holding the blunt were shaking, so Lexa removed it, dropping it in a cup of what looked like old coca cola on the desk beside the bed. “I don’t know.”

 

Lexa’s own eyes were stinging as she lowered herself down onto Clarke; they wrapped their arms around one another, held one another close as they cried for everything they lost and everything they were too scared to gain.

 

They both jolted when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a drunk Raven, who narrowed her eyes at them.

 

“Out of all the things you could possibly be doing right now, that is the gayest.”

 

If Lexa were more sober, she may have noticed that Clarke didn’t so much as flinch at that word, but only clutched Lexa more tightly.

 

///

 

The next day they said goodbye to all of Lexa’s friends, packed Clarke a suitcase, and headed for Polis for Fall Break.

 

“So how is this break going to work?” asked Clarke as they flew down the highway, heater on full blast.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Like…” Clarke hesitated. “I mean…do I get to see you? Or will your dad freak out?”

 

“Oh.” Lexa’s heart sank, but she clenched her jaw and sat up straighter in her seat. “I’m an adult. I’m out of the house. My dad can suck it.”

 

Clarke huffed in amusement, glancing at Lexa. “Eloquent.”

 

Lexa smirked. “I’m not a lawyer yet.”

 

“When you are, you’ll be the best.”

 

“Kiss-up.”

 

“So, do you want to have dinner at my place tonight? Kane’s making pork chops.”

 

Lexa’s stomach grumbled at the thought. “Sounds good to me. Is your mom going to be okay with me coming over…?” Clarke had filled her in on what her mother had said, and it hadn’t sounded like she’d been the happiest either.

 

“Oh, yeah,” nodded Clarke. “She was kind of forced to rethink her entire life philosophy when Reese came out. Like I said, she’s a lot better now.”

 

“Okay,” said Lexa, barely able to keep the relief out of her voice.

 

They stopped by Polis University so Lexa could pack clothes, but she didn’t pack much. Her dorm room was only a ten-minute drive from her dad’s house, so there was no way she was spending a week back home when she could just come back here. Hopefully she’d be seeing Clarke every day, too.

 

Dinner at Clarke’s was like a breath of fresh air. It wasn't even strange to see Reese looking so completely different, makeup on and wearing a blouse that Clarke had gushed over, asking her where she’d gotten it and making Reese’s grin stretch ear to ear. Aden spoke to Lexa about cross-country, and Kane and Abby chatted to her about her college experience thus far. She was grateful the subject of her father was never brought up.

 

Everything would be perfect and just like old times, if it weren’t for the constant tension lingering between them.

 

It was ridiculous. Every time they so much as looked at one another, Lexa’s mouth went dry and butterflies exploded in her belly. They bumped into each other walking down the hallway, and Lexa felt shaky. Their hands brushed together reaching for the popcorn, and Lexa felt an ache in her lower stomach…between her legs.

 

If Anya were here, she’d say she was pathetically _thirsty,_ and Lexa had to admit it was true.

 

If she could just keep her cool in her father’s presence, maybe she could get through this fall break without making the worst mistake of her life.

 

Her father greeted them with flared nostrils on his impassive face, the only sign he was upset as he stiffly asked Clarke the polite questions you’re supposed to ask; _“How are you? I’m well, thank you. How is school? Good. Are you enjoying it? Good. How are your classes? Good.”_ He’d already called Lexa the night before just before bed when she was alone trying and failing to fall asleep on the living room couch because she couldn’t stop thinking about Clarke, who little did she know was having similar problems in her bedroom. Her father said he saw the pictures she was tagged in (grinning with Aden and Reese as they posed with Clarke in the background covered in flour from when she tried to bake a dessert from scratch) and expressed his concern that she was spending time with the likes of Clarke Griffin again. Lexa warned him with an eerily calm voice that if he would like to see her this fall break, he would have to accept the fact that Lexa is an adult and she can spend time with her _friend_ whenever she wants. Her father finally changed his tune, and told Lexa to bring Clarke over for dinner the next day. Lexa warned Clarke it was probably another excuse to threaten her and said she wasn’t taking her…but Clarke insisted, a determined glint in her eyes that meant she’d be there whether Lexa liked it or not. So Lexa sighed, and said okay.

 

And now here they were, eating lemon-pepper chicken, roasted potatoes, and peas in a suffocating, awkward dinner with her father.

 

He wasn’t rude to Clarke, nor did he act angry toward Lexa. It was just… _awkward._

 

It became clear why he hadn’t thrown Clarke out of the house when he served dessert and told Lexa, louder than necessary, that the son of a woman from church would be over tomorrow for lunch and a blind date with Lexa. Lexa just stared at him, mouth open, flabbergasted. Beside her, Clarke looked just as nonplussed.

 

Titus smiled, and it actually seemed genuine. “I’m happy you two could grow up and put that unfortunate little phase behind you. It’s good you can still be friends…as it should be.”

 

Lexa goggled at the back of his bald head as he left the table to return the ice cream to the freezer. Anger was flushing her face—fury. What a total fucking _dick._

 

She had just opened her mouth to say something, though she didn’t know exactly what—shout incomprehensibly at him, perhaps—when the weight of Clarke’s hand settled on her arm. She turned to look at her, saw Clarke give her a furtive shake of her head, and furrowed her brows in confusion. Clarke glanced pointedly at her father, then back at Lexa again.

 

_Not worth it._

 

Lexa understood. If she started a screaming match, it would end with Clarke leaving and her father giving her hell every time she tried to spend time with her. She could save the screaming for after fall break.

 

So she took a breath and focused on her ice cream, opting not to even dignify Titus’s comment with a response.

 

“How does that sound, Lexa?” asked Titus when he returned to the table and sat before his own bowl of ice cream, eyes narrowed, studying her intently.

 

A muscle in her clenched jaw jumped. Fuck it. “It sounds—” She halted when she felt a touch drift across her foot and lower leg. Clarke’s. “Good,” she finished weakly. She shot Clarke a glare when Clarke’s lips twisted before she pressed them together as though trying not to smile, eyes fixed on her ice cream.

 

Titus’s face broke out in relief, as though he actually believed her. What the hell. “I’m so happy to hear that.” He was outright grinning now as he dug into his ice cream. “Such good news. I’ll have to tell the church next week. Proof that you can overcome corruption.”

 

Lexa’s spoon actually bent in her hand as a result of her angry grip. Clarke’s foot nudged her again and she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to laugh or moan because a moment later Clarke had put her hand on her thigh, clearly to offer support, but she must have forgotten that Lexa was wearing short shorts because she jolted away at once as though she’d been burned when her handed landed a little too high.

 

The glance Clarke gave her was darker than usual and Lexa was not at all prepared for it.

 

 _Thirsty,_ she thought in Anya’s voice. Fuck. She took a drink of her bottled water.

 

“Well, I may turn in a little early tonight,” sighed Titus a few minutes later when he finished off the last of his ice cream. “Are you girls?”

 

“Actually, we were thinking of going swimming,” said Lexa casually, fighting not to show her amusement as both Titus and Clarke froze.

 

Titus stared at her. “Lexa, it’s forty degrees out.”

 

She shrugged. “Our pool is heated.”

 

Silence stretched onward, and Lexa just continued to casually eat her ice cream as though oblivious to it.

 

“Okay,” said Titus slowly, finally. “I may stay up a bit longer, anyway. Catch up on some reading.” He seemed to have produced his bible from midair, although Lexa knew he probably had it in his pocket. Still, it was almost comical, and she was sure the snort Clarke gave that turned into coughing bent over her empty bowl was not the innocent choking she said it was.

 

Of course, fifteen minutes later when she and Clarke were floating in the pool in relative silence, Lexa’s heart crashing in her ears, she wondered what she’d been thinking. Sure, she had just been trying to get a rise out of her father, but she forgot how this would affect _her._

 

Because now she was alone in the pool with Clarke and all she could think about was what happened between them the last time they were in a pool together. She kept glancing at Clarke; she hadn’t brought a bathing suit so she’d had to borrow one of Lexa’s and wear a t-shirt over it since it was far too small to cover her chest, and God if _that_ wasn’t a mental image to implode Lexa’s mind. Her eyes were already red from the chlorine, hair slicked back from her face, and her gaze kept sliding onto Lexa too. Heat channeled through them every time their eyes met. Lexa’s mouth was dry; it was difficult to swallow.

 

She was hopelessly horny and there was no use denying it.

 

All she wanted was a repeat of last time they were in the pool. She could still remember it like it was yesterday. Wet, slick. Mouths moving together. Clarke’s tongue on hers. Grinding down on thighs, Clarke’s nipples hard through her swim top…

 

Fuck, fuck. Not good thoughts to be having. Not after what happened last time, not after losing Clarke for far too long.

 

She desperately cast around for something to distract herself with. She looked toward the house and spotted her father’s head visible through the kitchen window, scowling.

 

“My dad’s watching us,” she said lowly.

 

Clarke glanced at Lexa again, eyes dark. Her gaze lingered long enough Lexa’s skin was prickling with heat all over again, especially with what Clarke said next. “Shame.”

 

Fuck.

 

She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t ask.

 

“Why’s it a shame?” she asked.

 

Clarke gently turned in the water, t-shirt rippling up to reveal a flash of skin that had Lexa’s mouth going dry again. “Come find out.”

 

Lexa swallowed. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

 

“Why don’t you come feel if I mean them?”

 

“What do you—“ Lexa cut off, her eyes widening as the implications of Clarke’s statements sunk in. The ache in her lower belly and between her legs was so strong it physically hurt. “Oh.”

 

Clarke lowered herself down from where she’d been floating to stand upright in the pool. Lexa couldn’t tear her gaze away from the way her wet shirt clung to her breasts, outlining them perfectly, round and full and…she was so gay.

 

Clarke looked serious again, though, brow furrowed slightly, eyes troubled.

 

“What?”

 

Clarke looked at her, studied her. She sighed. “We always go back to this.”

 

Guilt bubbled into the heat in her belly. “I know,” she murmured.

 

“It’s not good.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I mean, it was good…you know. Last time. In this pool…”

 

Heat overtook the guilt. Lexa licked her lips. “Yeah.”

 

“Like… _really_ good.”

 

Lexa took a breath. “Yeah.”

 

Clarke tilted her head, uncertainty in her expression. “You thought it was good, right?”

 

 _Are you kidding?_ She wanted to ask that, but she didn’t. She’d been so wet. Hell, she was wet now. “Definitely,” she said, voice lower, rougher than she intended. Clarke’s gaze changed, darkened again.

 

“You don’t think it’s wrong anymore?”

 

“It didn’t feel wrong last time.” She swallowed, aware she was revealing…a lot, here. “It never felt wrong in the first place. Not to me, anyway.”

 

She could see the dip of Clarke’s throat as she swallowed. “Me either. But…your dad thinks it is.”

 

“He can be wrong.”

 

“Is he, though?” Clarke had made no move to diminish the space between them. They were both still aware Titus was watching them. “What do you think?”

 

“I think he hates what he doesn’t understand, and he cares more about what he thinks is best for me than what I want.”

 

“Well.” Clarke looked at her. “What do you want?”

 

Moment of truth. Lexa stepped closer. “You know.”

 

“Say it, though.”

 

“You,” said Lexa, voice steady even though she was trembling with want, with nerves. “Always you.”

 

She felt Clarke’s hitch of breath rather than heard it, as though they were connected in this pool, could feel one another’s emotions rippling through the water.

 

“Are you sure I don’t corrupt you?”

 

Lexa’s gaze dropped down to watch Clarke bite her lip. “God, I wish you would.”

 

“What are we waiting for, then?” whispered Clarke.

 

“I—“

 

“Girls!”

 

They both jumped about a foot in the air at the sound of Titus. He was stood in the patio doorway, waving them down.

 

“Come head back in, it’s late.”

 

Lexa nodded at him before turning to face Clarke again. Lexa’s pulse was throbbing between her legs.

 

“We shouldn’t,” murmured Clarke, avoiding her eyes.

 

Lexa swallowed thickly. “I know. I know.”

 

“Friends don’t do this.”

 

“I know.” She inhaled deeply, coming back to her senses. She’d only just gotten Clarke back a few days ago. She didn’t want to lose her again. “We’re friends. Just friends. It should stay that way.”

 

Clarke nodded. “Yeah. Right.”

 

But they were both still trembling, bodies on fire, the air thick and heavy between them as they got out of the pool and hurried into the warmth of the house. Lexa took one shower, Clarke took the downstairs one. They met in Lexa’s bedroom.

 

“Goodnight,” said Titus; he smiled at Lexa. “Get some rest before your date tomorrow.”

 

“I will,” said Lexa, the words bitter in her mouth.

 

“Leave the door open,” he added, voice a bit colder.

 

“Actually, we’re not going to sleep yet,” said Clarke sweetly. “We were going to watch a movie.”

 

“Oh,” Titus frowned, “That—that’ll be fine, then, I suppose. Hey, here’s something fun. How about I pick out the movie?”

 

Lexa exchanged a glance with Clarke—big mistake, because she couldn’t so much as look at her without her body growing warm and her heart picking up speed. They both nodded and Titus smiled.

 

Great.

 

///

 

Clarke was toweling her hair dry when Lexa put the movie Titus picked—“Titanic,” she’d said with a roll of her eyes, which honestly wasn’t a bad movie but of course he picked that movie—into the DVD player and went to close the door. It was still so tense and now, the two of them alone in this room, she didn’t know how she was going to survive a ridiculously long movie without giving in and kissing her. Part of her just wanted to scream.

 

The door shut, leaving them enveloped in darkness as the movie loaded. When the blue light of the disc menu came on, Lexa glanced at Clarke; she’d pulled the towel off her head, leaving her hair in a wet disarray of dark blonde curls. Her face was still pink from her shower, her eyes tinged red from the chlorine. She was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she stared at the screen. Lexa couldn’t stop her eyes from focusing on that, on the white teeth sank into pink lip, and swallowed as the familiar ache she never seemed to be without around Clarke returned, a steady kind of burning settling between her legs, in her belly, in her chest. Panic mingling with it and further setting her nerves alight, Lexa grabbed the remote from the nightstand, pressed play, set the remote down, and stared determinedly at the television screen. Music played as the movie began.

 

Ten minutes into the movie, the silence and tension in the room was unbearable. The air was so thick with it you couldn’t have cut it with a knife. Lexa was internally cringing, struggling beyond belief to keep her breathing even and level, but it was proving impossible. She was hyper-aware of Clarke beside her, of her every movement.

 

Clarke looked up, closed her eyes briefly, and then her hands disappeared beneath the blanket as she shifted where she sat. Lexa watched, confused, until a moment later, Clarke’s hands resurfaced with a crumpled pair of pajama pants and underwear. Lexa’s insides lurched. It was like the entire world was turned upside down, and suddenly the stars were beneath her and Clarke—Clarke was the center she was revolving around.

           

She wanted to whisper words to her, to ask her what this meant, to ask if she was absolutely certain, but she had a feeling that words would ruin everything right now. That breaking the silence would break the magic spell that seemed cast over them. And besides—every answer Lexa sought was in Clarke’s eyes, in the way that she was looking at Lexa with pupils blown so wide only slivers of blue could be seen, like slices of eclipsed moonlight. Clarke’s pale pink lips were parted and they were both holding their breath and Lexa’s head was spinning.

           

She moved on instinct. She gravitated closer to Clarke, a hand slipping under the covers. Clarke’s leg jumped slightly as Lexa’s cool fingertips brushed across a warm, naked thigh. Lexa’s heart was in her throat. It was like all oxygen had left the room. Touching wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted to take everything Clarke offered and more, wanted to drink her in and swallow her whole, wanted—

           

She automatically shuffled down the bed. She met Clarke’s widening eyes a brief second before she flipped the covers over her head, enveloping herself in darkness as she instinctively nudged a knee between Clarke’s. Clarke opened her legs for her, her hands shoving down beneath the blanket to feel for Lexa, softly cupping her cheeks, a thumb dipping over her mouth before her fingers entangled in her hair as she lowered down between Clarke’s spread thighs.

           

Lexa didn't have a clue what she was doing. She’d never done this before, never had it done to herself before, but she’d imagined it plenty of times. Part of her was in disbelief that this was even happening right now, with no words, no discussion beforehand, just Clarke’s insistent hands tugging her closer, the two of them alone in the bedroom with _Titanic_ playing quietly on the television. Lexa’s father was only one floor down and the door wasn’t even locked, but for once, Lexa didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except Clarke and what was happening right now.

           

She scooted close, until her breath hit sensitive skin and Clarke’s hips jerked in response. Lexa was blind but she pushed forward anyway, lips brushing across the softest, warmest part of her best friend she’d encountered yet. She heard a hiss of breath escaping from Clarke’s teeth at the same time as Clarke’s hips jerking at the contact, and she immediately pulled back, concerned Clarke had changed her mind—but Clarke’s grip on her hair tightened and she gently pulled Lexa’s head forward an inch, hips canting to make contact again. This time Lexa dropped a kiss before parting her lips and carefully, slowly, slid her tongue up the length of her. Clarke’s sigh was the sweetest sound she’d heard yet, and she swore she wanted nothing more than to hear it again every day for the rest of her life. Clarke tasted sweet and tangy and Lexa wanted _more._ She hooked her arms beneath Clarke’s thighs and tugged, loving the sharp intake of breath Clarke made at being suddenly yanked down the mattress so she was lying flat rather than sitting up against the pillows.

           

Lexa took her time, learning what movements of her tongue made Clarke sigh like that, what made her breath catch, what made her shudder and gasp and dig her nails into Lexa’s scalp and her heels into Lexa’s back. Lexa’s chin was wet and her heart was pounding, pounding, _pounding,_ but most insistent was the heat raging through her body, searing painfully in her lower belly and between her own legs. She was throbbing, much the same way Clarke was pulsating beneath the flat of her tongue.

           

If she died right now, she could die happy.

 

///

 

           

Clarke felt like she was dying.

           

She had to be, because she didn’t think it was physically possible for so much feeling to be trapped inside one body. She didn’t understand why the house was not on fire and crumbling around them, didn’t understand how anything with the smallest semblance of sanity could still exist while this was happening.

           

The room was almost silent and still. Everything was bathed in a dim blue light from the television. Clarke alone was exposed on the bed, the blankets up to her waist, one hand clutching the headboard behind her and the other disappearing under the blanket, gripping Lexa’s hair. Lexa’s socked feet were peeking out from the other end, hanging over the foot of the bed. The small bobbing of her head, a tiny hill of the blanket, was the only movement aside from Clarke’s heaving chest. The only sounds, apart from the movie, were the wet, sloppy sounds coming from under the blanket, and Clarke’s shallow breathing. She was sucking in quiet, ragged gasps, struggling to remain as soundless as possible. She knew Lexa’s father was just downstairs and had a keen sense of hearing. She knew this was probably the most foolish, reckless thing they’d ever done.

           

But _God_ , she was so glad they were doing it.

           

Lexa’s fingers were digging into her thighs. The flat of her tongue was beating against her flesh, before Lexa’s tongue pushed into her entrance and her nose rubbed against her clit and Clarke couldn’t believe Lexa had never done this before.

           

There was a swelling within her, a build-up that was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She had made herself orgasm enough to know what it was, but all the times she’d done it herself, it had never been like this, never even close to this. She felt like a tsunami of fire was crashing through her.

           

Her groin ached as she spread her legs farther, biting her lip hard to stop herself from groaning as Lexa buried her tongue even deeper before pulling out and licking up the length of her, stopping only to pull her clit into her mouth and suckle.

           

The strangled scream tore out of her throat before she could stop it, and Lexa stilled. Clarke froze too, panting, straining to hear past her heart thundering in her ears, but there was no creaking of the stairs, no indication whatsoever that Titus had heard. Too impatient to be worried, Clarke squeezed Lexa again and canted her hips, begging for more contact. Lexa didn’t move and for one wild moment Clarke thought she was about to remerge with fearful eyes, having realized all the reasons this was crazy, but then she lowered her head back down, buried her tongue inside her, and Clarke’s head fell with a sharp _thunk_ against the headboard.

           

The tidal wave inside her was sharpening, drawing into a point, and she was arching her back, her toes curling, her body quaking, unable to so much as draw breath as white lights burst behind her eyelids—

           

Then it exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, like shrapnel of light leaving her body in a rush. Her mouth was open in a silent cry and her lower lip was trembling. Lexa.

           

Lexa made her feel like this. Lexa was between her legs. Lexa was licking her out and drinking everything Clarke gave her like she was lost in the desert dying of dehydration and this was the only source of water for miles.

 

Her best friend was making her feel like this, and it was so much better than Clarke ever could have fantasized, and declarations of love bubbled to her lips she sank her teeth into to keep from escaping. _Love, love, love._

_Lexa._

           

The waves crashed over her and left her much like the way she supposed a tsunami left ruins. She sank, limp and weak, into the bed, unable to do anything more than blink dazedly up at the ceiling where imaginary stars were blinking back at her.

           

Lexa’s head popped up, her hair a tangled mess of wild brown curls beneath the blanket. Her eyes were hooded and her lips were shining with Clarke’s own juices and her cheeks were flushed and, God, Clarke had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life.

           

It wasn’t until Lexa’s eyes dropped to her lips that she realized she’d been mouthing the words, mouthing Lexa’s name, over and over again. She hadn’t caught her breath yet. She was starting to think she never would. She didn’t care.

           

Right now, all she cared about was making Lexa feel good. If she could make her feel even half as good as she’d just made Clarke feel, then Clarke could die happy.

           

Lexa shifted back as Clarke shuffled forward on her knees. Her body was wonderfully heavy and her legs were like jelly, but the hands she lifted to push the blanket down from where it draped over Lexa’s head were steady. She hesitated, hovering there on her knees before her, staring at Lexa and Lexa staring back at her. This moment felt heavy, thick with significance. Clarke knew what she should do. Knew she should just put her hands on Lexa’s shoulders and steer her back against the pillows and dive beneath the blankets to unravel her the same way she’d just done to her. She also knew she wanted much, much more than that.

           

So she leaned forward, and she kissed her.

           

Lexa made a sound that was muffled against Clarke’s lips but eventually broke free in a gasp when they parted. It was soft, and slow, and gentle, but Clarke’s lungs were still searing, her head still spinning. Lexa tasted like sex and something more, something rich and intoxicating and essentially her. It was delicious and addicting and Clarke was certain she’d never be able to be in the same room as Lexa without wanting to do this again. She was also fairly sure she never wanted to go another day of her life without doing this again too, but she’d think about what that meant later.

 

Lexa shivered as Clarke’s fingertips brushed the skin just under the hem of her shirt. She slipped her hands up them and—God. Her quiet moan was muffled against Lexa’s lips. Lexa wasn’t wearing anything under her sleep shirt, of course. Clarke palmed her breasts; they were small but full, pert nipples hard against her palms. When her thumbs rubbed circles around them before fingers plucked at them, Lexa gave a gasp and lost the energy to hold herself up, falling back against the bed in this weird twitchy wiggle that had Clarke giggling and following her down.

 

She lathed her neck with open-mouthed kisses, tongue skittering across her defined collarbones before she had to pull back and pull Lexa’s shirt off so she could use teeth and tongue on her breasts to seek a repeat performance, throbbing between her legs all over again as Lexa gasped and writhed. Her wriggling caused Clarke to shift, straddle Lexa’s thigh, and then she was the one gasping as it pressed up against her. Then Lexa was groaning again, too loudly this time—Clarke had to press her hand to her mouth to muffle it—as Clarke grinded against her, bare and wet.

 

She could come again. She felt right on the threshold already. But if she wasn’t touching Lexa in the next ten seconds, she was going to implode. She crawled back, cold air hitting her as she lifted off Lexa’s thigh; she could see the wet mark she’d left on her, glinting in the television light. She grasped the waistband of Lexa’s shorts and tugged them down, biting her lip to keep from making a noise of appreciation at the fact that Lexa wasn’t wearing any underwear. Fuck.

 

Part of her should probably wonder why this wasn’t strange; she was seeing her best friend completely naked, after all. But it didn’t feel weird. It felt…normal. Right.

 

Lexa’s legs fell open for her and Clarke’s breath caught.

 

It felt hot.

 

She was going to make her best friend cum, and she couldn’t wait.

 

She had her mouth on her before Lexa could so much as draw breath. As a result, Lexa made a strangled choking noise, hips jerking as Clarke licked through her folds, gathering the abundance of wetness on her tongue before swallowing and seeking more. She tasted so good. She wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d definitely wondered about this before—what girls tasted like, what _Lexa_ tasted like. It wasn’t like honey, or fruity, it was just…different. Tangy, heavy, sharp. Delicious.

 

She didn’t tease her. She flattened her tongue, lapping at her swollen clit. Her own throbbed painfully, in need of a release, in response as Lexa tugged at her hair and rolled her hips, rubbing herself on Clarke’s tongue until Clarke lowered it, elongated it the best she could and held it in a point as she licked inside of Lexa as deep as she could go, which admittedly wasn’t much but it still had Lexa’s hips bucking. When she reached up to press a thumb to her clit and rub tight circles around it, it was over.

 

Lexa’s back arched, the cords of her neck strained, her mouth falling open, her body shaking and God, Clarke had never seen anything so beautiful. Lexa’s orgasm flooded Clarke’s mouth and she took it all, everything Lexa gave her, and only withdrew when Lexa pushed her head back, overstimulated.

 

“Fuck,” panted Lexa, blinking as though she’d forgotten where she was. “Fuck.”

 

Clarke crawled up to collapse beside her. The sheets were soaked beneath them in the spots they’d came in. “Fuck is right,” she breathed. Why did people waste their time getting drunk or stoned when they could be having mindblowing sex? Nothing could make you feel as high as good sex did. Holy _shit._

 

After a couple minutes in which they caught their breath, Lexa said, “I guess it’s not weird anymore if I tell you I think you’re so fucking hot.”

 

Clarke smirked. “Nope. Keep saying it too, it’s good for my ego.”

 

“So hot. So, so hot. Like, _just thinking about you makes me wet_ hot.”

 

“Fuck,” muttered Clarke, a little breathless. She leaned in to kiss Lexa’s sweaty neck, drifting kisses down the curve to meet her shoulder. “I guess I could tell you that I’ve thought you were hot since we were fourteen and you showed me your new sports bra.”

 

“I’ve thought you were hot since we were thirteen and you straightened your hair for the school dance.”

 

Clarke leaned forward to nip Lexa’s ear before whispering, “I’m bisexual.”

 

Lexa’s lips curved. “Are you really coming out to me? Right now? After your head was just between my legs?”

 

Clarke nuzzled her throat, still feeling her pulse beating wildly in the hollow there, and said in amusement, “Technically I came before that.”

 

“Weak.”

 

“For you.”

 

“Me too,” said Lexa quietly after a moment. She half turned to lay on her side so she could face Clarke, burying her face in the curve of Clarke’s neck as Clarke had done only moments ago. “Dad was wrong, you know,” she mumbled into Clarke’s flesh.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“You aren’t my weakness. You make me better, stronger. Make the world a brighter, better place. I don’t know what I would have done if I never had you in my life. I’m blessed to have you, Clarke.”

 

Clarke licked her lips, smiling a little at how ridiculous it was that after all they had just done, this—basking in the afterglow talking about how much they meant to one another in hushed tones—was what brought the blush warming her face. “I’m blessed to have you, Lexa. You make me better, too.”

 

Both of their hands were wandering again. Clarke bit her lip, watching the way Lexa’s eyes darkened, pupils nearly eclipsing the green, as they both trailed their hands lower, lower, lower. They dipped into wetness at the same time, both sucking in a breath at the same time. Their gaze met, they leaned forward, and that was the end of the peaceful calm because the next thing she knew, they were kissing desperately, muffling cries with their kisses as they coaxed sharp, silent orgasms out of one another.

 

The Titanic had just hit the iceberg when they were lying slumped together, the blanket thrown carelessly over them, panting. Clarke felt delirious and judging by the way Lexa was blinking unfocused, dazed eyes at her coupled with a loopy grin, she felt the same.

 

When the door opened and Titus walked in, they barely even jumped.

 

His jaw dropped and he spluttered, gawping at them; it was obvious what they’d been doing. Their hair was a mess, their faces were flushed and sweaty, it probably smelled like a sex dungeon, their clothes were littered all over the floor, and if that wasn’t enough, Clarke’s ass was hanging out of the blanket. She wasn’t even hasty as she scooted closer to Lexa, draping the blanket farther over to ensure they were both adequately covered.

 

“What—what in God’s name—“

 

Lexa’s head lolled as she looked up at him and snorted. “I don’t even care.”

 

“I don’t give a fuck,” added Clarke, voice every bit as lofty as Lexa’s.

 

Titus’s face was beet-red and he was still stammering. “I—you—you can’t—this—“

 

“I’m gay, Dad,” said Lexa flatly. “Accept it or get over it.”

 

“Get dressed,” Titus thundered. “Clarke, you get out of this house, I’ll deal with you and your parents later. Lexa, come downstairs at once. We need to talk.”

 

He slammed the door shut, and Lexa sighed.

 

Under normal circumstances, perhaps they’d be a bit more distressed, but Clarke’s body ached in the best of ways, and she loved Lexa, and she knew Lexa felt the same way about her, and love _isn’t_ weakness. It’s strength.

 

So they pulled themselves out of bed, helped one another pull their clothes back in, and kissed softly, tenderly, before Clarke promised Lexa she’d text the moment she got home, and Lexa promised she’d call the moment she escaped her father’s lecturing, and they kissed again before they realized they’d been kissing too long when Titus shouted Lexa’s name from downstairs. They pressed wry smiles together a last time before Lexa walked Clarke downstairs and to her car—kissed her again—and then waved as she drove off. Then Lexa squared her shoulders, and walked back into the house to face her father.

 

///

 

Anya burst into laughter. "Wait, wait, wait a minute. You and Clarke grew up together, Clarke is oblivious but you're totally aware of your feelings- super GAY feelings-and your dad being a pastor complicates things, but you guys are like magnets and you can't stay away from each other, even though you have no idea what the hell you're doing, and then you don't even talk about it. You spend way too much time thirsting and not enough actually being honest with each other and with yourselves. So, to get this straight- you're not."  


Lexa deadpanned her. "Clearly."

 

“Sorry. I just.” Anya waved, clearly motioning Lexa to continue with her story. “This is a lot to take in at once, and—from an objective outsider’s view—I cannot believe it took you guys nearly two decades to get your shit together. Not that it’s together. I mean, you haven’t even told you you’re in love with her.”

 

Lexa scowled. “All in due time. Can I finish the story now?”

 

Anya bowed her head as though she were granting Lexa an honor. Lexa rolled her eyes and finished her story.

 

“So even though I’m legally an adult, he grounded me and took away my phone.”

 

Granted, he’d basically threatened to disown her too, but still. The fact that he’d grounded her hadn’t been the worst, nor was the fact that he hadn’t shut up for half an hour about how she would be kicked out of a Christian university for such sins, nor all the other bullshit he’d spewed about how she was corrupted and toxic. What had really pissed her off was when he told her Clarke was nothing, and laughed when she said she was in love with her.

 

At that point, she’d packed up everything she could and walked to Clarke’s house, trudging through the snow. Abby and Kane had welcomed her with open arms, and she’d spent the rest of her break there, playing games with the family during the day and secretly banging Clarke in her childhood bed in the middle of the night. To be honest, she kind of loved how things worked out, save her father being her father.

 

Anya shook her head as she took a sip of coffee. “Wow. I can’t believe you never told me how much of a dick your dad is.”

 

“Yeah.” Lexa’s cheeks puffed as she blew out a breath. “So now I have to message Clarke through facebook on my laptop.”

 

Anya’s smirk wrapped around the rim of her coffee. “Gonna make it facebook official?”

 

Lexa rolled her eyes, and Anya chuckled before growing oddly serious.

 

“No, listen, Lexa. I’m really happy for you. You seem happier and Clarke was great. I’m incredibly happy for you.”

 

“Thanks,” said Lexa, smiling, touched.

 

The moment, of course, was ruined by someone knocking on Lexa’s dormitory door. She and Anya both frowned at one another; Tsing wasn’t meant to be back from her classes until much later.

 

Lexa opened the door and immediately grinned, laughing in pleasant surprise as a certain blonde she was deeply in love with hopped into the room, throwing her arms around her.

 

“Clarke! What are you doing here?”

 

“I missed you,” said Clarke with a shit-eating grin as she pulled back after pressing a firm kiss to Lexa’s mouth.

 

Anya pretended to gag. “It’s been a week, seriously?”

 

“Hi Anya,” said Clarke, smirking at her as Lexa pulled her into the room. She’d barely shrugged off her jacket when Lexa’s hands were already sliding under her shirt, fingertips pressing into the small of her back. “Bye Anya,” she said as Anya, laughing and shaking her head, hurried out of the room.

 

Clarke’s shirt was off before the door had even shut.

 

Some time later, an hour, perhaps two—Lexa’s watch had been thrown somewhere with her shirt—they lay tangled up in bed together, sweaty and sated. Clarke was tracing patterns on Lexa’s skin.

 

“You should let me paint you sometime,” she said absently. Sleepily. “Like, paint something on your back.”

 

“I’d love to wear your art,” sighed Lexa, snuggling closer to Clarke, wrapped up in her arms. “You could design me a tattoo.”

 

“Really?” said Clarke, delighted. She beamed and smacked a kiss to the top of Lexa’s head when she nodded.

 

They both groaned when there was another knock on the door. It couldn’t be Tsing; Anya must have forgotten something. Lexa didn’t bother dressing, instead just wrapping a spare blanket around herself as she went to get the door. When she opened it, however—it wasn’t Anya.

 

“Coach,” said Lexa, surprised to see Pike standing there along with the Dean of the college. “Dean Emerson.”

 

“Hello Ms. Woods,” said Emerson, no trace of anything even remotely pleasant in his face. “We need to talk.”

 

///

 

 

“I can’t believe this.”

 

“I know.”

 

Clarke was shaking her head, in as much of a shock as Lexa. Emerson and Pike had left over fifteen minutes ago.

 

“And they’re expelling you, kicking you off the team.”

 

“I know.”

 

“They can’t _do_ that!” exploded Clarke.

 

“They can,” said Lexa dully.

 

“No, Lexa, they seriously can’t! It’s discrimination, it’s—“

 

“All they have to do is say I wasn’t worth the money they were giving me,” interrupted Lexa, rendering Clarke silent. “All Coach Pike and Dean Emerson have to do is say he’s found a better athlete. Sure, I could still push it, but I can’t afford getting a lawyer and getting into these legal battles. There’s nothing to do.”

 

“It’s not fair,” said Clarke, her eyes brimming over. “It’s not fair. They can’t do that to you. You’re the best damn athlete in this entire college, Lexa.”

 

Lexa shrugged. “Their loss, then.”

 

“God.” Clarke angrily swiped at her eyes, throwing an incredulous glare at Lexa. “How are you being so calm about this? Your dad just essentially got you kicked out of school, Lexa.”

 

Lexa licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry. “Well. I guess I’ll just have to find a new school then, won’t I?”

 

Clarke stilled as the words sank in. She stared at Lexa, gaze unreadable, and Lexa gazed back, her palms sweating.

 

Then Clarke launched forward.

 

Lexa’s laugh was muffled against Clarke’s lips as she pressed her back against the bed, fingers tangling in her hair, hearts pounding together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll eventually add an epilogue! No idea when, but at some point.


End file.
